#like what kind of asshole parents are these. like are you saying a child has to be yours in order to get food in your house

[roobylavender]

one thought before i disappear again but i really fail to understand damian fans' logic or interaction with canon on any level like your entire engagement with him as a character relies on a bastardization of every person around him. i don't see what worth there is in comparing how dick and bruce are comparatively written as parental figures in damian's life when your primary basis for analysis is canon from a writer who believes (1) dick shouldn't be in a relationship with kory bc he's happy-go-lucky and hates drama; and (2) bruce's life as a hero naturally culminates in fascism. neither of these are good faith takes on the characters involved so how can you place any value in how either of them are portrayed to interact with damian by way of that. and obv this doesn't even get into the plethora of talia issues which i have essayed about to the point of exhaustion. like idk i get that i can't make people hate a character obv lol and for many damian fans that attachment is there bc they read about him when they were young but i still don't really understand what there is about damian to be invested in once you're an adult who realizes he is holistically built on character assassination and racist stereotypes that he is inseparable from. like you can't really analyze his interactions with anyone without the context for those interactions being shoddy writing of someone else and i know that can happen in comics a lot but it happening in isolation is different from it forming the entire basis for a character

[eomayas]

chasing pavements • hjs

pairing: husband!joshua x wife!reader, parent au

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

synopsis: just reader and joshua being parents

warnings: parental woes, arguments, past childhood trauma, girl-dad!joshua, their child is nameless and is called ‘baby’

a/n: the people asked for dad!shua but nobody said which kind…🤭 anyway this was v random and is very parent-y so beware!

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

sighing out a deep breath, you open your eyes and try to make your voice as gentle and even as possible. “i’ve asked you to clean up your mess three times now, baby. i’m not going to ask you again,” you stop stirring the spoon in the pot to look over your shoulder at her. she’s busy dragging her crayons over a coloring page, not bothering to look up at you.

“but im not done!” she whines, bottoms lip jutting out with the beginnings of a tantrum. you tense and and blink a few times as she just whines, tiny hand holding the crayon tightly in her hand. she’s not even coloring inside of the lines, just streaking the colors over the sheet haphazardly.

“dinner is almost ready. clean it up,” you voice is stern, tension in your tone rising as well as in your posture. you grip the ladle tightly in your fist, your other hand braced against the kitchen counter. “if i have to ask you again, then-“ the consequence dies on your tongue at the sound of the lock clicking and the front door opening. she gasps and shoots up from the table, loose crayons scattering across the wood floors.

“papa!” she shouts, running down the hall to greet joshua. you close your eyes and push out a breath from your nose. your jaw is tight as you turn back to face the stove. “look at what i got from school today! oh, and you missed seeing soobin today!”

“yeah? what is it?” he’s pressing a kiss to her cheek as he enters the kitchen, making her giggle when he blows raspberry against her skin. joshua sets her down so she can run to her backpack. “hey, baby.” he says, a hand sliding around to your hip and his lips pressing against your jaw in a greeting.

“hey,” you shrug him off of you and turn the burner down to low heat. “uh-uh, you can show daddy after dinner. go clean up,” you say, stopping her short when she comes back with a paper from school clutched in her hands.

that bottom lip juts out again and her eyes dart over to joshua for help. it only frustrates you more, because all three of you know that she has him in her palm. “well- joshua, stop.” you bark, throwing your arm out to the side to push against his abdomen. “go clean up the table so we can eat dinner.” her eyes well up with tears, and you feel like the biggest asshole in the world for making her cry. you remember a brief moment of yourself as a child and being scared each time your father asked you to do something. he never had to ask you or your siblings more than once—you all found out the hard way—and worry that you’re doing the same thing to her.

she huffs and spins around, her walk mopey as she puts her paper back into her bag and starts to slowly pick up the crayons. you feel joshua start, his hand gently pushing yours away as he makes his way over to her. “i’ll help you, princess,” he says and you grit your teeth.

“joshua, stop! i’ve asked her six times now, she needs to listen!” you’re on the brink of snapping, another word out of him or her is very likely to send you over the edge. it’s rough. the day was shitty from the jump, but you didn’t think it would be this bad by the end.

you expect joshua to at least have your back when you put a number on it, he looks over at you before glancing down at your daughter with sad eyes. “y/n, she’s just a baby.”

“goddamnit, joshua! let me do this!”

and then the dam breaks. her wail ripples through you like an electric current, setting off all of the alarms and signals that let you know your daughter is in trouble. except, you put her in this position, and now your heart has sunk to your stomach. joshua hurries to pick her up, cradling her against his chest and smoothing his hand over her hair. you stay rooted at your place by the stove, ignoring the sting in your nose and the newly formed lump in your throat. joshua shushes her softly like he used to when she was much smaller, but she just keeps wailing.

her cries slice through your heart and shred it to pieces. you want to walk over to her and hold her, tell her that you’re sorry, but you don’t think it’ll help. “baby- i’ve got it,” joshua cuts you off this time, cutting his eyes at you as he keeps trying to console her.

it only frustrates you more, and your anger is misplaced when you spit out, “deal with dinner, then. since you’ve got everything,” and storm out of the kitchen, your heels punctuating the end of the conversation. you fly up the stairs and into your bedroom, kicking off your shoes into your closet.

you stand there, in the middle of the walk-in, with your hands on your hips as you take in deep, shuddering breaths. your vision blurs with tears that you don’t let fall, instead blinking them away as you try to regain control over your breathing. her crying face swims through your mind and you almost forget why you’re so upset. almost. but unlucky for her, you’re not as easily swayed like joshua is.

grabbing a sweatshirt and a pair of pants off of their hangers, you quickly undress from your work outfit, and pull onto the much more comfortable clothes. you shove your feet into a pair of sneakers and push out a breath. her cries echo through the house, and you wince at her gasping breaths. it’s muffled, but you can hear joshua trying to calm her down, though whatever he says makes her let out a piercing wail that makes you flinch. it all feels too much; your guilt, her crying, your frustration at the both of them for different things.

you slip out of the bedroom and move as quickly and quietly as you can down the stairs. you force your eyes away from the kitchen and grab your purse off of the accent table in the foyer, and leave the house without a word.

i’m just like my father.

the thought rang through your head the the moment you pulled out of your neighborhood. it almost brought you to tears, but you managed to keep them in again. and you almost turned back, but couldn’t. you have the harrowing realization that the more you fought to be better than him, you ended up a mirror. it makes your stomach flip and turn, but yet you still don’t turn around.

time is a flat circle.

there’s not a place you’re heading for. you’ve just been driving on the back roads for nearly two hours. the sun set a long time ago, and now the sky is dark and unwelcoming. you should go him, you know it, but facing your husband isn’t something you feel up for at the moment.

turning into a dimly lit convenience store parking lot, you pull into a space and out your car in park. you sigh and lean back against the headrest, shutting your eyes and reminding yourself to breathe. you visualize a square and practice the breathing exercise your therapist taught you. in for four, out for four, her voice echoes through your head. it calms down the storm brewing inside of you and brings you back down. that voice in the back of your head, the one telling you that you’re just like your own dad, gets a little quieter.

your phone buzzes in the cup holder, and you pick it up.

joshua: you don’t have to tell me where you are, just lmk that you’re ok.

you: i’m okay.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, deciding that it’s time to go home. it’s past your daughters bedtime now, and you can guarantee that she’s already tucked in and asleep. at least you won’t have to deal with the both of them tonight.

on your way home, you pass a donut shop that is surprisingly open. you stop and quickly run in. the pastries surprisingly look fresh for 8pm, and order half a dozen of your daughters favorite (chocolate with sprinkles, and maple), before heading to the car to make your way home.

the stress of the day starts to weigh on you halfway home. the morning started out rough; joshua had to go into work early, so taking your daughter was your duty. from the moment you woke her up, she was in meltdown mode. you take the blame for rushing a seven year old, but you let her have juice in her lunch instead of the usual water, so you figured that it evened everything out. but then you were late from picking her up from the after school program she sometimes goes to if neither you nor joshua can pick her up, and she whined about it the whole way home. never mind the fact that your workday was filled with hour-long, unnecessary meetings.

you yawn as you pull into your neighborhood and up to your driveway. you stall in the car for a moment, looking at the dark house in front of you, save for the bright porch light. there’s a chance that joshua has gone to bed, but in your heart of hearts you know that he’s waiting up for you. deciding to just deal with your life, you grab the box of donuts and your belongings, and get out of the car.

you quietly make you way into the house, lightly shutting the front door and locking it behind you. just the sight of the kitchen makes you tense, and when you walk in you’re met with a clean kitchen table and floor, no signs of there ever being a previous mess. you put the donuts away in the fridge to keep them fresh.

with a sigh, you exit the kitchen and start up tje stairs, footsteps light just in case the stairs creak. you step into your bedroom with a quiet sigh, and shut the door. the light from the en suite bathroom shines through the cracked door, and you can hear joshua in there. grabbing some pajamas, you pull on a tshirt just as joshua comes into the room. “hey,” he says, voice soft.

“hi,” you tug the shirt over your head and toss your other clothing items into the hamper. he lingers near the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you as you make yourself busy with little things.

“we need to talk about earlier,” joshua says. you don’t look up at him as you apply hand cream.

you take a moment before responding. “okay,” you breathe out, roughly massaging the lotion into your skin. you hear joshua shuffle on the other side of the room.

“you can’t yell at her like that,” joshua says gently. you sit up and stare across the room at a family photo, blinking a few times.

“i know. but i asked her six times to do something, and she still didn’t even do it. you need to let me discipline her,” you say, finally looking over at him. he uncrosses his arms to run a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he does.

“she’s just a baby.”

“she’s seven.”

“she’s a little girl, honey,” joshua says, like that changes anything. you two are usually on the same page when it comes to disciplining her, though she doesn’t really get disciplined because she’s an good kid. you thought he’d understand your frustration today, but he doesn’t and you feel like your back is against the wall.

the fight in you is gone, though a flicker or your earlier anger lights inside of you upon hearing him talk. “okay, and i shouldn’t have to tell her to do something six times. she should just do it the first time,” you say, looking at him pointedly. he pokes his tongue in his cheek, and you know he doesn’t agree with you and is holding back whatever he wants to say. “and, i don’t need you to step in when im trying to teach her something. you need to let me parent her.”

“are you implying that i don’t parent her?” he asks, head tilting to the side. you squeeze your eyes shut and swallow the frustrated groan at the back of your throat.

“i’m not implying anything. im telling you that you need to let me teach her things, without interrupting me. because she’s going to think that she can get out of everything if she looks at you,” you say. joshua purses his lips and looks down at his feet, nodding slowly. “you have to stop babying her, joshua.”

asking him to do that is like asking him to recolor the sky: it’s impossible. one look at her and his entire backbone shatters. it’s sweet sometimes, until you need him to enforce some rules.

“fine, alright? but you can’t yell at her like that. you heard how she cried afterwards,” he says, his voice less gentle than before. you blink at him and drag a hand down your face. you’re ready to put this conversation to bed—nothing feels like it’s going to get resolved tonight. “she was scared, baby. remember that night when i met your dad? she had that same look on her face.” your stomach drops at the memory.

the first time you let joshua meet your dad was also the last time he saw him, until your daughter was born. you were in college, and had only been dating joshua for a few months, but you felt so sure about him. he was the first person you felt so sure about, and it scared you, but you felt like in order for joshua to understand you and to love you, he had to meet your dad. he’d met everybody else in your family, but you were putting off him meeting your dad because of how your father is. the night started out fine, everybody was generally getting along with each other and joshua was fitting in. you were on edge, worried that something would happen so much so that you weren’t able to relax. you were running around trying to help your mom with the kitchen, be a good host to joshua, and avoid pissing off your dad.

and then it happened. you can hardly recall the reason now, since you’ve really tried to block it out of your memory, but you forgot a dish, or burned something that he wanted in particular, and he flipped out. you were in your twenties, so you didn’t have a problem standing up for yourself at that point. but because your new boyfriend was there, and it was humiliating that he was yelling at you like that in front of company, all you could do was cry. you begged him to stop with tears streaming down your face, begged him not to say things in front of joshua. he ignored your pleas as they only made him explode. joshua tried standing up for you, but your dad yelled at him too, claimed joshua was ‘disrespecting’ him, and told him to get out.

joshua left but took you with him. he kissed your mom and siblings goodbye, and whisked you out of the house. you were so embarrassed that you could hardly talk through the tears. you expected joshua to break up with you after that, and managed to ask if he was going to leave you. he stayed and proposed to you five months later, and you quietly eloped together, only a few of your friends knowing about it.

“i’m not like him,” you say, throat closing. joshua’s face falls and his features soften as your eyes well up with tears, already moving to walk over to you.

“no, you’re not,” he clarifies, sitting next to you on the bed and pulling you into his chest. you press your fists into your eyes and try to control your breathing while he softly rubs your back. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you.” joshua whispers, kissing your head as you tremble in his arms. he keeps his lips pressed to your hair and lets you fight the tears, never once letting go of you.

your eyes ache from pressing against them and you pull your hands away, sniffing and trying to pull yourself away from him. joshua only holds onto you tighter which makes your eyes well up again, and you can’t believe you’ve been brought to tears more times tonight than in the year so far. “i left,” you mumble weakly.

“you came back.”

“but i left.”

joshua pulls back enough to look down at you. you look up at him with sad eyes and he lets go of you to wipe your face. “and you came back. you’re nothing like him, baby. you’re a good mom, a good wife, and you care. you left, but you came back. water under the bridge,” he says, pushing your hair out of your face. you blink tears away as he peers down at you before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“i love you. and im sorry,” you murmur, wiping under your eyes.

“i love you too, and we both have things to work on.”

you nod, and let him hold you until you eventually doze off, headache and all. you only wake up in the middle of the night because you’re uncomfortable, and move to your side of the bed. joshua still tugs you back into his chest and the two of you mange to stay that was until the morning.

when you wake, joshua is right behind you. he talks you down when you panic about facing your baby. “does she hate me?” you ask, wiping sleep out of your eyes.

“of course not,” he says, a small frown on his face. you want to tell him to wait until she’s a teenager, but he looks distraught enough at your question, so you just nod.

she’s asleep when you peek in her room, sprawled out on her small bed. you creep over quietly and kneel beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. she wakes up easily, stretching her short limbs before she opens her eyes. “mommy?” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes with a small yawn.

“hi, baby,” you say, smoothing a hand over her head. she looks up at you timidly, and your stomach knots. “did you sleep okay?” she nods and you give her a small smile. “mommy’s sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“it’s okay,” she says, sitting up. it’s not, but you’ll take her accepting your apology. “can i have a hug?” her voice is small, and makes you want to cry because she doesn’t have to ask you for that.

“of course, baby,” you say, wrapping yourself around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. your hold her for awhile, until she starts to struggle against you. “i got you something.” you say once you loosen your hold around her. her eyes light up and you smile, scooping her up and heading downstairs.

you pull the box of donuts out of the fridge snd she gasps when you open the lid. you let her have a whole donut for breakfast, and promise her half of one after dinner. you apologize again, and she tells you that it’s okay again. one day, you’ll let her know that she can’t just say ‘it’s okay’ whenever somebody apologizes, but for now you let it be.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

[2minutesnotice]

Why People With Mental Illness And Trauma Deserve Love

(and why Blitzø Buckso is one of them)

Grab yourself some snacks and a drink, I'll have a talk with you people who go all for the

"If you can't love yourself, you can't love anybody else"

mantra, which is toxic as fuck.

And sorry for the typos 😬🥲

SPOILER WARNING Full Moon

tw:mental illness / coping mechanism / self harm self worth / shitty parenting /abusive and toxic relationships

First of all, I'm autistic, so a lot of scenarios I'll give you will come from my experiences because it's easier for me to feel empathy that way and explain a situation.

BLITZØ IN FULL MOON

People come into my DMs and want to rant with me about him. I get it. It seems he's an asshole.

And he IS.

Blitzø has multiple character traits which are trauma coded and boy what a can of worms that is. Most of them are really hard in your face, like the fact that he can't stand his own face in pictures.

Which comes from a deep rooted self hate, which comes up in self worth issues. Blitzø had his fair experience with drugs and alcohol , even drowned himself in last to get over his shitty experience with Stolas at Ozzie's.

I'm not saying he's suicidal, but Blitzø's biggest fear is, to die alone.

Because he KNOWS how he is. That makes him really self reflected. He knows how he behaves, he knows his own coping mechanisms.

That's why it's so easy to make him mad. He's mostly angry at himself in most situations, so it also happened in Full Moon. Blitzø uses anger to get things out of people, because most people react to anger, but he's not doing it to HURT people, it's the only way he knows how to get an reaction out of people.

The reaction HE wants. Since Blitzø has no self worth he has no clue WHY people should love him. So he shoves them away and keeps them at distance.

At the same time he CRAVES intimacy. And here's the conflict. Blitzø's love language is sex.

He feels the closest to people if he can be intimate with them. And yes, even in a weird "I fuck Chaz to be close to M&M" kind of way. He is krass with his talking about sex, he over shares, he LOVES to talk about sex.

Because he's good at it. And because it gets him close to people. If the show had more time I bet we would've seen Blitzø having multiple one night stands over the time. Yes, even with his arrangement with Stolas. Because there was sex before there were feelings. Definitely.

Shitty Parenting x Self Worth

Blitzø got sold by his own father as a play buddy for a rich kid. Yes the rich kid was Stolas and it was cute, but still, rich kid.

And we all have seen, that he wasn't good at what his father made him do in the circus but what Blitzø always had, was his pride. Also, he's very good at making things up as they go. Doing that damn horse balloon and making a joke about it, shows how he is capable of selling himself still as the best, even if it isn't so.

We don't know much about Tilla, but we know Blitzø definitely had a closer relationship to her then to his father.

I know we only have two concrete scenes which show what kind of an relationship Cash and his son had, but the "I wish you were my son" card for Fizz kinda draws us the picture here.

As a child who always had to compete with a sister which was highly gifted, this does something to you.

You try to be better, at any cost. Sounds familiar?

"I'll try to be better".

But what? In what will he try to be better? I think Blitzø doesn't even know at what he will try to be better, he just does not want to lose this. But what is this?

RELATIONSHIPS

IF Blitzø would have just cared about his business, he would've walked away with the crystal. Just like that. He would've said

"Thank Satan, I thought I would lose my business,thanks Stolas, it was nice as it lasted" and he would've been gone.

But he didn't. He listened to what Stolas said but he didn't LISTEN. Because it was confusing as fuck, even as The Audience just watching it was a LOT what was said and going from

"I'll let you go" to "I have feelings for you, please stay" in a second.

And of course Blitzø would not understand that. Because Stolas could not MEAN it. Because Stolas has servants who are Imps and he called him names, a plaything and if Blitzø is anything for Stolas, at first, he's a whore.

Blitzø sold his body for a service. For his business.

They could have made that arrangement about ANYTHING. Money, another hitman service, bodyguarding.

STOLAS made it about sex. The thing Blitzø knows, the one he CRAVES, the thing he is good at, besides killing people.

But the one thing Blitzø is not good at, are words and feelings. And Stolas had a lot of them, at once. And it felt not fair for Blitzø to be cornered like that, because he had no idea what was expected from him. And then he used the ONLY thing he knows, which always gets something out of people: Anger.

That's the words and feelings he knows.

And he got an reaction, but also had to deal with the consequences.

STOLAS AT FULL MOON

I love Stolas. But he he's living in a romance novel world and there's also, trauma.

Stolas first words I had imprinted in my mind were "I always thought love could be fun". He wished for a happy family his whole life and all he got was an abusive wife and a loveless marriage.

He is a dreamer. Someone who loves the small things and he is caring. He loves to indulge in fiction, he loves telenovelas because even if there's drama, there are relationships. Something he never had experienced.

Stolas is a soft soul. But he's repressed and depressed as fuck. And that's not only because of Stella, but his upbringing and the knowledge to live in a Golden Cage. But he never voices that he has problems with THAT.

See, Stolas is a prince, he grew up with servants, Imps mostly. In a palace. Even if he despises Stella's parties, I bet if he wouldn't be an outsider in his own race, he would be the one doing the parties himself. It would do him some good because Stolas is also, lonely.

While Blitzø lived in Circus tents and tried to proof himself, Stolas had to proof that he's worthy his title as a prince. Being married, the whole heir thing, his duties.

And then Blitzø appears out of fucking nowhere, seducing him (like in his novels!), staying with him the whole night (showing him he's obviously gay), showing him he can choose, that he HAS A CHANCE to be happy.

With Blitzø.

And then we see the duet and the second Stolas sings about how he wants this to go, I knew they will fuck up. Because Stolas had played out this scenario SO OFTEN in his head, that he has so many images of Blitzø in his head that he knows this will not work out good. He has hopes and dreams but in the end, the decision falls on Blitzø.

So we go to Full Moon and Blitzø reacts... poorly. He even mocks him. And then he starts screaming and shouting and guess who else was always shouting and screaming? Guess who told Stolas his whole marriage that he's not worth anything. That he's not worth of love, that he's a failure, that his head is in the clouds and mocked him about everything he loves.

Blitzøs only way to cope with too many feelings is anger, Stolas trauma is based on anger and rejection.

But Stolas reacted so FAST. He gave Blitzø the crystal and he told him that he gives him the offer to stay, because he has feelings for him (like in his novels!) and his hopes are so high and the second he does not get what he wants, what he needs, he snaps. He's disappointed. He's hurt.

Because he wants this so bad to work.

But it can't, because they're for now reading the same book, but they're so not on the same page.

Because, and now we're getting there, they have to deal with what was said.

TRAUMA AND RELATIONSHIPS

I'm married for ten years now. My wife and I met each other 20 years ago.

I was suicidal back then, I cut myself regularly, I was depressed and had an eating disorder.

But I had friends. And I had relationships. And I loved so so deeply.

And then I got together with my wife 11 years ago. I was freshly diagnosed with being autistic, my wife has ADHD.

She also has several PTSD triggers, I have childhood trauma from living with my Mom who's an alcoholic.

And yes, I am able to have an relationship. We love each other dearly, we care about each other. We learn from each other, daily.

We have bad days, but we are GOOD for each other.

Because you DESERVE TO BE LOVED, no matter what.

In the first place is always that you're responsible for yourself. You can't trauma dump on your partner in excessive ways because that's not healthy. BUT learning to share your experiences but still being responsible for yourself and your actions, is a whole different thing.

You can love and be loved, even at your lowest.

But you have to be aware that your partner is not your therapist and that communication in a relationship, in which both parties are mentally ill, is KEY.

You have to go to the same ground, you have to explain what are your boundaries, what are your triggers but you have also to accept that the other one is sometimes not able to deal with your package.

My wife and I, we communicate DAILY. We have totally different needs. We have totally different views and patterns to deal with things. But we love each other.

Because we respect each other's differences.

And that's the homework for Stolas and Blitzø. They don't have to TO GET BETTER, they have to grow and they have to listen, communicate instead of just dumping expectations at each other.

You can't expect someone to break a pattern that is carved by trauma, just because you tell them you love them. And you can't expect that someone's listening when you push all their triggers at once.

I'm really excited how this will go. It's heartbreaking but I guess now that everything is said, they can finally be honest, without all the trauma dumping and pushing buttons.

And as I said:

You're worth of love. You're worth to be loved and you can give love, even at your lowest. Your deserve love, even at your lowest. You ARE loved.

Thank you for reading! ✨ Gold Star for you!

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eleven

authors note: hi! i'm super sorry for the cliffhanger! i just have this thing where i need sections to be cohesive, and this chapter is much heavier than the previous, so i didn't wanna boggle ya'll down with all that angst!

i've also been thinking about the length of this story. currently, in terms of story timeline, we're at the very end of december 23', and i have ideas for up to may 24'. well, beyond that, but i don't want things to get stale, so i can end it around that time or keep it going? just curious because i don't want it to play out so long that it bores anyone. if that makes sense. just lmk.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angsttttt (parental neglect, abandonment, trauma) language, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, some fluff

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 6.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You knew as soon as he walked in that something was up.

In getting to know Joe, you’d also learned that he was, surprisingly, on the quiet side. He spoke with you, of course, but you learned he leaned more towards introverted than extroverted. It was kind of sweet and pretty surprising. But, you’d also learned there was a difference between him being his sometimes quiet self and when something was off, and something was definitely off.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to fuck it out of you?” He rolls his eyes, not even showing any excitement at the idea of fucking you. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. “Seriously, what’s up?”

He shrugs, playing it off clearly. “Just tired. Back to back matches.” 

That's when you realize what it is. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, dismissively, and you cross your arms. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“Take it off, or I’ll climb your big ass and take it off myself.” Joe blows out a breath. He has to know you’re dead serious. So, wordlessly, he lifts his shirt over his head and turns around. 

You gasp almost immediately. “What the actual fuck?” Your hand reaches to touch him, but you stop yourself, knowing that his skin must be sensitive to the touch. His back is inflamed, red welts spread in different areas with a nasty bruise that looks like a borderline hematoma and other various cuts. 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Shaking your head, you point to your room. “Go sit and wait for me on the bed.” He opens his mouth, and you lift a finger. “I don’t want to hear it. Get in there now.”

Surprisingly, he follows suit, and you start to move about, gathering the necessary supplies. Along the way, you experience a plethora of emotions but mostly bounce back and forth between irritation and concern. 

You’re irritated that he didn’t just come out and say that he was hurt. You’re also concerned because he’s obviously in pain, and that bothers you. He doesn’t have to be, he didn’t have to be if he just said something. 

Stubborn asshole. 

With everything needed and placed in a cloth bag, you walk into your room and stretch your hand out to him. “Take this.”

Joe looks down at your open palm with a single pink pill. “What the hell is it?”

“Coke,” you answer with a straight face. Rolling your eyes, you answer, “Benadryl. It’ll help with the inflammation of the welts.”

“It’ll also knock me out.”

“We’ll we’re obviously not fucking with your back all messed up, so what else are you going to do?”

“Who said we can’t fuck?”

You sigh. “Joe, if you don’t just take this goddamn pill. With your size, you probably should take two, but I’m trying to be nice by only giving you one, so accept my kindness and swallow this damn pill or I’ll shove it down your throat.” 

He sucks his teeth but also takes the pill from you followed by the water bottle tucked under your arm. “You’re a terrible nurse.”

“And you’re an awful patient. At least we’re both on the same page.” You wait for him to swallow it before taking the bottle from him. “Good, now lay on your stomach.”

He lifts his brow, asking, “why?”

“Oh my god, you’re as bad as my students.” Men when they’re sick or not feeling well are a special kind of torture you’re not sure why exactly you’re subjecting yourself to right now. “Just do it, please. I’m trying to help you here.”

He just looks at you, as if he has something else to say, probably so. But, he surprises you by staying silent and following your instructions. 

Pleased, you climb on top of him, sitting on his ass to avoid irritating his already sensitive skin. “Okay, now this may hurt a little bit at first—”

He makes a sound underneath you. “Can’t hurt anymore than it already does.”

“If you had said something sooner, I could have helped you before now,” you scold, dropping the bag on the bed beside ya’ll. Men and their tendency to downplay pain will never cease to amaze you. The minute you start getting hit with cramps, you pop an ibuprofen.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“You’re in pain. That’s always a big deal.” Pulling out the ointment, you dab enough to your hand and start carefully massaging it into the welts. He hisses at your touch and you murmur an apology but don’t stop. It’s short term discomfort for long term benefits. 

“What is this?” He asks.

“Calamine lotion,” you answer, adding on. “I have hydrocortisone too, but my grandma always said calamine works just as well without getting into your bloodstream. Don’t know how true it is, but it always worked for me, so it’ll work for you.”

He chuckles. “She sounded fun.”

Instantly, a smile is on your face as you continue to treat him. “Always. Summers with her were always the highlight of my year.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, and you continue to work the lotion into his skin. Once pleased with the application, you move on to the next part. “Alright, I’m gonna apply some cold compresses. You’ll probably be out in another 20 minutes, so just leave em’ on, and I’ll come change em’ out while you’re sleeping.”

When he doesn’t push back, you pull the compresses out of your bag and strategically place them on different areas of his back to maximize the comfort. Once finished, you climb off of him and go to close up the blinds and curtains. “Alright, get some rest.” 

You’re at the doorway when he says your name. “Yeah?”

A slight delay before he says, genuinely, “thank you.” 

There’s something meaningful beyond just the obvious, and it brings a small smile to your face. Not that he can see that. So you settle on, “of course. You’re no good to me if you can’t fuck me.”

He laughs, loudly. “Shut up.”

Smile widening, you close the door.  ________

Joe finds you a couple hours later in the kitchen, but it’s the state of you that gives him a pause and brings a smile to his face.

You’re dancing around, clad in one of his shirts and short shorts that your ass swallows up. Brief glimpses of your side profile reveal that you’re singing too, just in a low enough voice, probably not to disturb you. 

He doesn’t know the specific song, but the voice is familiar enough for him to know it’s Taylor Swift. That definitely surprises him, though it shouldn’t. You have a weird ass taste in music to where he’s found you in the shower listening to some random rock song, other times, it was throwback R&B.

You were just so….different from anyone he’s ever known. 

It’s one of the many reasons he’s so enamored with you.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

It’s when you turn around, mid bite on a cookie that you finally notice his presence, smiling. “Hey. You’re up.”

“I am.” He nods, walking over to you. He gestures around the kitchen. “What is all this?” 

You finish chewing and swallow before directing Alexa to pause the music. “Well, I finished my lesson planning and was bored, so I decided to bake. But then I got hungry for actual food, so I ordered takeout.”

“And the music?”

You shrug, taking another bite of your cookie. “I like the song. Don’t worry, it’s the only Taylor Swift song allowed in this African American household.”

He laughs and moves past you when you take the chance to assess his back, immediately noticing how the swelling and redness have decreased. “How you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers, moving to the cartons, seeing that you made sure to order his favorites as well. “Thanks again.”

Smirking, you climb on the island, locking your ankles together. “Not so terrible nurse after all then, huh?”

“Your bedside manners still suck.” 

“Shut up.” You watch him fix his food and when he gets ready to sit down on a bar stool, you hop off the counter, prompting, “come with me.”

“Where?”

“All these damn questions….” Grabbing a couple of cookies and placing them in a bowl, you find your sandals and slide them on your feet. “Just come on.”

“Let me at least put a shirt on.”

“Absolutely not. You need to let your skin breathe,” you lecture, taking him in, all of him. “Trust me, no one’s gonna see us, and even if they did, who the hell would complain about you being shirtless?”

Snatching the keys off the table, you open the door, allowing him to walk out first. You start to leave your door unlocked but decide against it. It’s an extremely safe town, but there’s always a first time for everything. 

Locking it, you motion for him to follow you up the two sets of steps until reaching the heavy door that you turn the knob left and then right in order to open it. Joe’s immediately hit with a nice breeze and diminishing sunlight as the evening sets in.

“Come on,” you usher him to follow you to your favorite spot, sitting down and patting down on the ground next to you.

Joe chuckles, following suit. “Seriously?”

You ignore him, pushing on his shoulder as he brings his plate in front of him to eat. “I like to come out here sometimes to just get away. Especially if I need to clear my head. My grandma used to always say the closer you are to Heaven, the clearer you can hear God’s voice.”

He just watches you, the way the wind blows at your curls, making them splash at your face. Everything about you has always been stunning to him, but in this moment where you sit so relaxed and unbothered, he’s never thought you looked more beautiful. 

“Plus, you obviously need to clear your head to bounce back from that ass whooping,” you snort, taking another bite of your cookie. One look at Joe’s scowl makes you giggle. “On one hand, it’s crazy to me you put your body through so much, but I also recognize your passion and dedication. So, I get it. I was an athlete too. Love of the game type shit.”

You can’t say that you would have ever continued to cheer if it left you the way Joe would come to you sometimes, but as someone who’s been in a similar situation, you understand it. And it’s so much more than just a job to him. It’s a legacy, in his bloodline. All he knows.

All he wants.

So, you support him.

You’ll always support him.

________

There’s the initial chaos that ensues in the minutes after your departure. Callie’s confusion. Joe’s confusion. Bianca’s utter confusion. And as Callie is right there, Joe can’t go immediately after you. He can’t and won’t leave her, so he does the best he can, offering apologies to Bianca and Co. before taking Callie and finding your mom who was catching up with an old friend in another part of the show.

He has some level of difficulty explaining what happened, other than the fact that you’d run off and he needed to find you. It’s really all of the information that he has to go off of, and when he’s finally able to get back to the apartment where he thinks you probably went. He's disappointed to find it empty. There’s brief moment of panic. 

Just where the hell would you go?

He pulls out his phone to check again if you’ll pick up, but it goes straight to voicemail. He then starts to call your mom to ask her if she had any idea where you would be when he thinks about what happened. You were upset, very much so. 

You needed to clear your head.

He knows exactly where you are.

On that same roof he sat on with you years prior is where Joe finds you, but what he doesn’t expect is the bottle of Hennessy that’s not only open but already halfway empty and sitting beside you. 

He doesn’t try to hide his presence and is unsurprised when you ask, “How’d you find me?” 

“Wasn’t that hard,” he answers. It wasn’t. He remembers almost everything you’ve ever told him about yourself, including how this spot has always been your place to escape.

Just what were you escaping from is what has him stumped.

“Sit down.” You pat the space beside you much harder than what’s necessary. He sighs and asks for a minute, pulling out the phone and stepping away to make a call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah,” Joe runs his hand over his face. “I got her, but….can you take Callie back to your place?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

He looks over again at the bottle. “She’s drunk.”

“Drunk?” It sounds like she’s holding back a chuckle, like his words are humorous because everyone knows you don’t drink, and she says as such. “What do you mean she’s drunk? My child doesn’t even drink.”

“She did tonight” Joe’s eyes fall back over to you to see you still sitting, swaying slightly as if listening to music. There is no music. “And Callie doesn’t need to see her like this.” He especially knows you wouldn’t want her to see you like this. 

Your mom sighs, heavily, on the other end. “You’ll stay with her, right?”

“Of course.” That’s not even a question. “And once I get her settled, if Callie is still up—”

“Oh, she’ll be up. She can’t fall asleep unless she talks to you or her mama.” It feels like an inappropriate response, but there’s a small part of Joe that finds joy in this. He remembers when you mentioned to him before that Callie needed to see and/or speak to you before she could fall asleep, a sign of how closely bonded you two were. To be added to that category means everything to him. “Thank you, Joseph.”

He sees no need in being thanked but acknowledges your mom’s appreciation anyway. “Of course.” The call ends, and he brings his focus back to you. The first thing he does is take away the bottle of Henny.

You see this and instantly scowl. “You’re no fun.” 

He sits next to you, asking in a quiet voice, “what happened tonight, Y/N?” Joe is still utterly confused at all of this, your zero to one hundred change in demeanor. But, the fact that you resulted to drinking shows him just how heavy whatever it was has impacted you. “Talk to me.” 

You laugh, but there isn’t an ounce of humor. “God, where do I start?” Your eyes light up, as if realizing something. “Oooh. I know where.” You lean into his shoulder, whispering, “I’m the product of an affair.”

This piece of information definitely takes him by surprise.

He's noticed you've never talked about your father, and he's never asked. Obviously, it was a sensitive topic, that much he could garner. But now, he knows just why it was sensitive.

“I don't—I don't know exactly what happened between them. She’s never really talked about it, but I do remember when I was younger, maybe—maybe a couple years older than Callie, he was—he was at the house.” You swallow, and Joe can see the distance in your eyes, like you’re no longer sitting here beside him. But someplace else. “She told me to go to my room, but I snooped at the top of the steps. Don’t….don’t really remember everything that was said except that she was literally begging this man to have some type of relationship with me, and he refused.” You laugh suddenly, and it’s so out of place, doesn't make sense given the nature of the conversation. But it does if he factors in the liquor coursing through your system. “He called me a m–mistake.”

Joe's heart aches at your words. “Baby—”

“When I was sixteen years old, I worked at a clothing store in town, and I saved up my money for this necklace…it was gold, and I thought—I thought it was so pretty. It made me feel fancy.” You chuckle, not as humorous this time, head tilting. “And once I finally got the necklace, I drove—I drove an hour away because…because after all those years, I still….I wanted to meet my father. I wanted…I wanted him to be in my life.” 

“He’s uh—or was, I’m not sure anymore—captain of police in his town, so I went to the precinct to meet him, wearing that necklace that I worked months to save up for because…because I wanted to look nice. I remember walking into his office, and I was nervous, but—but I also figured there was no way he could reject me then. I—I was head cheerleader. A straight A student. I—I had just gotten a near perfect score on both my SAT and ACT. I was…I was a good kid, Joe.”

Your jaw fixes, and he can see you’re trying to hold back tears. It kills him to see you this upset. He’s never seen you this vulnerable. “And I—I told him all that. I told him I wanted to see if he wanted a relationship with me, and do you know what he told me?” You suddenly stand up, clearly intending to mimic this interaction. “A relationship? Why would I want a relationship with you? You’re not even supposed to exist.” 

You giggle, eyes watering. Joe frowns. He can’t even begin to fathom how someone can say something like that to their own flesh and blood.

“Oh, but that’s not even the best part.” You’re doing one hell of a job playing this all off as something that isn’t impacting you, no doubt thanks to the alcohol. But, he knows you well enough to know and even see where this is headed. “He—” you hiccup, covering your mouth to hide your giggles. “He said again that I was a mistake that he paid my mom to take care of and—” It’s starting to crack, the alcohol induced facade that all of this is fine, that you don’t care. Your voice starts to catch. “---that the money he gave her for an abortion was the biggest waste of money he ever spent.”

“Y/N—”

“Minutes later, his wife walked in and then—and then his daughter walked in, and I—I ran. I couldn’t….I couldn’t—we looked the same age, Joe. He had a daughter already, he–he didn’t need me. He didn't—he didn’t want me.” You sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “And that’s fine, I—I didn’t care. I—I blocked that out after that day. I’d—I’d forgotten about him.” A beat. “Until tonight.”

“Because—because for the first time since I was sixteen years old, I was in front of all of them again. My—my—father, his wife, my—-”

Joe starts putting the pieces together. “Bianca….”

“She’s my sister,” you answer for him, having a hard time keeping it all in at this point. “She’s the one he’s proud of. She’s the one whose kid he claims as his grandchild. She’s the one he acknowledges. I’m just—I’m just the mistake he wishes was never born.” 

Joe stands up, gradually moving toward you. 

“I did everything right. I stayed out of trouble. I went to school. I got my degree. I did—-” He’s in front of you, gently pulling you into him as you finally break. “I don’t understand why he didn’t want me. I’m his daughter.” you finally shatter, crying into his chest. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, hey—” Joe brings his hands to your face, making you look at him. “There is nothing wrong with you. You are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, and I can’t even begin to describe how amazing of a mother you are.” He wipes away your tears as you clutch onto his shirt. “He doesn’t deserve you, baby. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He never did, and he never will. Fuck him. You don’t need shit from him. I’ve got you, okay? Always.” You allow him to hold you, to comfort you, because it’s just what you need in this moment. You tried to find it in solitude, tried to find it at the bottom of a liquor bottle, but it was all in vain. You just needed him.

Joe holds you as long as you allow him, letting you cry it out until he's eventually able to guide you into returning to your apartment.

But outside the door is when you hesitate.

He notices this, immediately asking, “what’s wrong?”

Your eyes start watering again. “Callie…I—I don’t want her to—”

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head. “I asked your mom to take her back to her place. I’ll go check on her after I get you straight.”

This seems to settle some of your anxiety, and he continues to guide you into your bedroom. He helps you out of your clothes and into a simple t-shirt that he recognizes as one of his own.

Joe moves all of your decorative pillows, placing them on the chair in the corner of your room as you pull back the blankets. He turns around to find you reaching for his hand, tugging him towards the bed. “Just—just until I fall asleep.”

He doesn’t object. Joe planned to stay with you until then anyway.

He undresses enough to climb into bed with you, and you waste no time burying yourself into his chest, feeling an instant sense of peace when he wraps his strong arms around you. You’ve always felt so safe and protected in his embrace, and in this moment, it’s everything you need. 

“I realized something tonight,” you mumble into his skin. Joe’s hand is under your shirt, hand moving soothing circles on the small of your back. “I—I didn’t keep Callie from you because of your wife. That was part of the reason, but it wasn’t the main reason.” You lift your head, throat feeling pressured as you allow yourself to finally admit, “the truth is that I was terrified you would reject her the way my dad rejected me, and I never wanted her to feel that way. And I know now that you would never do that to her, but I—I didn’t know then, and I was so wrong, and I’m so sorry. I—”

“Hey—” He cuts you off, hand going to palm your cheek. “Don’t do that. I understand why you did it now, I do. You were trying to protect her. I can’t be upset with you for that. I’m not.” He studies your face, your eyes, always so beautiful to him. “I don’t think I could ever be mad at you for too long.”

It’s not a lie. Joe’s always thought he’s known you like the back of his hand, learned you so well, but tonight has shown him that he didn’t know everything. He’ll never get back the time he missed out on with Callie, and maybe on some level there will always be a slither of resentment. But, it’s not enough for him to notice and most definitely not enough for him to actually feel.

He’s not quite sure how he could find it in him to hold your decision against you. It didn’t come from a place of selfishness or vindictiveness but love and protectiveness. You just wanted to keep her from experiencing the pain and trauma you’d endured. 

There was no faulting that. 

And you accept his grace, so understanding and considerate. You feel slightly undeserving but immensely grateful that he can extend such empathy. 

You’re quiet after that, eyes shut as you work to turn off your brain and decompress what’s inarguably been one of the most difficult days of your life. You’re almost in the early stages of sleep when his voice invades the quietness. 

“I love you.” Joe doesn’t feel any sort of movement at his confession, doesn’t feel you tense or relax. He’s not even sure if you’re still awake, but still, he continues. “I’ve always loved you, and I don’t even know how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter because I’ve always imagined telling you under much different circumstances anyway.”

“I want to be with you,” he continues. “I’ve always wanted to be with you, and I’m sorry for not putting you first. You deserved better than that. I should have gotten divorced long before I even met you. And that’s….something we eventually need to talk about. I owe you that much.”

He wants to say more, so much more, but he also knows now is not the time given he’s almost certain you’re asleep. Hence why he finally slips out of bed, knowing he needs to check on Callie.

He doesn’t leave without caressing your cheek and kissing your temple, relieved that you’re finally getting some rest following what was inexplicably an emotionally draining day. 

But you’re not asleep, and you did hear it.

You heard it all.

________

“Who are you?”

Joe walked into your moms house, not expecting anyone other than your mom and Callie. Only one of those individuals are present, and the other is a man he’s never in his life seen before but automatically doesn’t like. Just his aura seems off. 

Joe especially hates that this man is in the same house as his little girl.

Your mom seems taken back by this side of him and explains, “Joe, this is Amir. He’s, uhh, an old friend of Y/N. He saw her run off and wanted to check in on her.”

The day's events are definitely a contributing factor as Joe feels exhausted, both mentally and physically, but hearing that this is the infamous Amir instantly angers him. What the hell is he doing here?

“You bold as hell coming here.” is all Joe says, redirecting his attention to your mom. “Y/N tell you that she found out he and Mariah been sleeping with each other?”

What he wants to say is that they’ve been fucking, but he wants to remain respectful. Even if it is hard as hell.

Your mom is looking, mouth ajar, between Joe and Amir. “Wh–what is he talking about, Amir?”

“So you’re the one that’s been feeding those lies into her.” Deflection. It’s a typical bitch move. “You talking a lot of shit for someone who abandoned his own kid and just came back on the scene like ain't nothing happened.”

If not for the fact that you’ve already explained to Joe that you’d never told Amir what really happened between you and him because it was none of his business, Joe would have been livid. He would never abandon you. And definitely never Callie. Ever.

He’d have been with you every fucking step of the way the minute you found out you were pregnant if he’d been given the chance.

But all of that is no business of this asshole’s. 

“You can say or think whatever the hell you want about me. It doesn’t matter. You’re irrelevant, regardless, so the same way you walked your ass in here is the same way you can walk your ass right on out.”

“Apparently not to Y/N.” He’s smug, and it takes a tremendous amount of willpower for Joe to not lay this man out right then and there. He doesn’t know why you would ever settle for the likes of this prick. “Not with how many times she ended up in my bed.” 

Joe partially forgot your mom was even in the same vicinity until she gasps loudly, clearly disgusted, “my Lord. Please, this is my daughter you’re speaking about.”

With a low chuckle, Joe tries his best to remain respectful yet still abundantly clear. “And how many times has she reached out to you since I’ve been back?” His silence is all the answer Joe needs, not that he really needs one at all. Joe knows you have eyes and desire for him and him alone. He just needs to prove a point to this motherfucker. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you to stay the fuck away from my girlfriend and especially my daughter, cause the next time it won’t be no conversation.”

And before Amir can say or even, stupidly, do anything, a new smaller voice enters the scene.

“Daddy!”

Joe is unsure if he’ll ever get over the joy that fills him at being called that. Callie is at the top of the steps but proceeds to rush down when she sees him, Joe leaning down and catching her, picking her up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses her cheek, noticing almost immediately how tired she looks. Understandable, as it’s almost 11 o’ clock, far past her bedtime. Uncomfortable with this Amari or whatever the fuck his name is being so close to Callie, Joe starts leading her back up the stairs.

With a frown, she asks the question he was expecting. “Where’s mommy?” 

“She’s back at the apartment sleeping.” Joe is unsure just how to explain tonight’s events to Callie, not really knowing how to help her understand what occurred, if at all possible. “I’ll take you to see her tomorrow morning as soon as she wakes up.”

Joe walks her into her room at your mom’s place and seats her on the bed, sitting next to her. “What’s wrong with her?”

Such a simple question in wording and massively difficult in every other area, especially when one considers Callie’s young age. 

“Mommy saw someone who was very mean to her when she was little, and it made her sad, so….she just wanted to be alone.” It’s the best, simplest answer that’s not a lie he can come up with on the spot.

Callie’s frown deepens. “I don’t want mommy to be sad.”

“Neither do I, baby,” he murmurs. “But, I talked with her, and she should start feeling better soon, okay?”

Her frown diminishes slightly, and Joe can tell she’s in thought. She then asks, “are you gonna go stay with mommy tonight?”

“I was, but I can stay with you, if you want me to.” Joe knows you’ll probably sleep throughout the night because of the alcohol and more importantly, if Callie needs him, he’s there. No questions asked.

You would do the same. 

She suddenly shakes her head. “Mommy stays with me when I’m sad, so someone’s gotta stay with her while she’s sad.” Her face grows sullen again as she asks with a yawn, “do you still have to leave tomorrow morning?”

“No, I leave tomorrow night instead.”

In the midst of all of tonight’s chaos, he’d managed to switch flights, picking an evening one instead. Joe let Hunter know there was a family emergency, and that he’d be back later than initially expected. Hunter was understanding, and while he was grateful for that, it didn’t really make a difference.

You and Callie come first. 

She’s obviously partially pleased with this information and moves her body against his, laying her head on his arm. “I’m sleepy….”

Reaching to caress her cheek with his finger, he directs, “get some rest, Callie. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

She doesn’t say anything, just closes her eyes. It doesn’t take long for sleep to overtake her, a mere matter of minutes really. He stays with her longer though, just to be sure, needing to know she’s okay.

He needs both of yall to be okay.

________

You wake up with an instant sense of unease and discomfort. Your head is throbbing, and your body feels heavy. Your chest feels pressured, like there’s some invisible weight on it.

But in a matter of seconds, it all comes rushing back to you. The fireworks. Bianca. Seeing your dad. Running. Drinking. 

"I love you."

Eyes shutting, you do your best to settle your brain because only one thing is at the front of your mind when you hear giggling coming from outside of your closed door.

Callie 

Just how in the hell did your brief mental breakdown affect your child? 

Pushing the blankets off, it’s then you notice the bottle of water and white pill sitting on your nightstand. Picking it up, you see it’s Advil.

“Joe…..” you whisper, realizing he must have left it here waiting for you once you woke up. Eyes watering at his thoughtfulness, you swallow it and head straight for the bathroom. You need to get cleaned up and get out there to see what kind of damage you’ve unintentionally inflicted on your child’s psyche.

You know how attached she is to you and don’t even allow yourself to think about how difficult it must have been to be so abruptly ripped away.

Especially when you’re the one who did the ripping.

The shower is kept to a minimum, and once your teeth are brushed and face clean, you don’t hesitate to step out of the room. Following the path of sound, in the kitchen is where you find Callie. With Joe. 

They’re sharing a quiet laugh, and you’re certain it’s quiet because he told her you needed your rest. Always looking out for you. 

However, it’s when Callie happens to glance your way that her eyes go big. 

“Mommy!”

She surprisingly climbs off the counter instead of outright jumping and runs over to you. You kneel down to meet her for her hug, so tight and welcoming. “Do you feel better?” 

“Oh baby, I’m always better when I get to see you.” Kissing her forehead, you add, gently, “mommy’s sorry for scaring you.” And it's true. You never meant to scare her or make her worry about you, and it's something you'll work as hard as necessary to make up to her.

But your sweet child surprises you with her authentic, mature reassurances. “It’s okay. Daddy said you were sad,” she explains and gasps. “I made you something to make you smile!”

Touched, you palm her cheek. She really is the light of your life. “I’d love to see it, baby.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back.” She rushes out of the kitchen, and you take the opportunity to talk to Joe. Wordlessly, you move over to hug him.

“Thank you.” There’s not enough thank yous to show him just how appreciative you are to have him in your life, to have him as Callie’s father. He took such control yesterday while you were busy drowning in your daddy issues. And now he’s still here when you’re almost certain that he was supposed to have flown out at the crack of dawn. “I’m really sorry about last night. That’s not—-I don’t get drunk. I would never leave Callie like that—“

“I don’t care about any of that,” he dismisses. You believe him, as he looks entirely uninterested in any explanation you want to provide him because he sees it as unnecessary. He takes the back of hand to feel your forehead. “How are you feeling? Did you take the Advil?”

Nodding, you try again, “seriously, Joe. You’ve changed your whole schedule around—“

“You needed me,” he answers. “There was nothing to think about.”

And the tears are brewing again, but for very different reasons. This man is everything you’ve always wanted and dreamed of, even better. And he loves you. He wants to be with you. Your daughter's father wants to establish a life with you, be a family. What logical reason do you have to continue to deny him? Deny yourself?

“Joe…..” Licking your lips, you place your hands on his chest. “I lo—”

“Here it is, mommy!”

Callie’s interruption is both perfect and imperfect timing. You want so badly to tell him that you love him too, that you also want to be with him. But maybe it’s not the best timing, maybe the setting should be different.

You want him to know you love him not just because of the aftershocks of vulnerability. That you’re in love with him and have been since you were 23 years old. 

Callie is at your legs, holding up a drawing she created of you surrounded by hearts. Her artwork has always been her favorite form of expression, and you’re so grateful for her pure, kind heart in this moment.

Holding it against your chest, you lean down to accept her hug. “Thank you so much, baby. I love it.” 

“Yay!” She rejoices and then looks up between the two of you. “Daddy and I made you breakfast!”  

Gasping, you ask, “really?” It’s only then you notice the kitchen, while cleaner than one would expect after preparing breakfast with a four-year-old, you see the counters that have food laid out on a variety of plates and tupperware. “Waffles?”

“Your favorite.” Joe reaches to kiss your temple, and lightly pats your hip. “Sit down, we’ll fix it for you.”

You open your mouth to protest when Callie takes your hand and guides you to the barstools and scampers back over to Joe who picks her up, holding her with one arm while the other fixes your breakfast for you. He allows her to point and dictate what goes on your plate and how it’s fixed.

And you sit there, allowing yourself to take in this moment. There’s so much you need to navigate and sort through. Bianca, your dad, Mariah, hell, even finally being honest with Joe about your feelings. But, all of that can wait. 

Because all that matters right now are the two people you love most in this world.

[dragoncat223]

I’ve been thinking about this for the past couple of days. A more mature Scooby-Doo series can be done, and it can be done well. I’ve seen a lot of proposals for an adult Scooby-Doo series, so here’s mine.

Fred doesn’t have family. His parents change from series to series. The only consistent thing about Fred’s family is that it is uncertain, so it starts like this: Something strange and unexplained happened to Fred’s parents when he was a child. He was five years old and ever since he’s been filled with only questions. So he grows up with a curiosity that can never be satisfied. He goes to college, and gets a degree in physics. All the moving parts of any kind of machine is have always fascinated him. As a little ten year old he’d stand for hours in Krispy Kreme watching the machine that makes the donuts. So he’s an inventor. His pride and joy is his old van he paid $100 for an fixed up himself.

The Blakes are old money. They haven’t known financial insecurity since the 1610s. So they’ve got houses, and planes, and helicopters, and cars. Old cars. But the head of the family, (picks name out of hat) Robert “Dick” Blake has no idea how to take care of them. He’s a business man. He finds Fred Jones, a genius mechanic, and hires him on the spot.

Now, Dick loves his daughters dearly. All six of them. He’s been grooming his oldest to take over the company when he retires. Unfortunately that means he gets to spend less and less time with his other daughters to the point where his youngest daughter, Daphne, only gets to see him on holidays and her birthday (he’s trying, he really is). But Daphne is fine with that. After being raised in the lap of luxury, silver spoon in her mouth, she has had access to almost every hobby imaginable. She got excellent grades at her fancy private schools, and in her free time she did Karate, Boxing, Kick boxing, Mixed Martial arts, gymnastics, Ballet, tap dancing, tennis, basketball, soccer, volley ball, skiing, knitting, crochet, baking, embroidery, sewing, synchronized swimming, you name it, she’s done it. She graduated college with a degree in marketing she didn’t really want, wondering what she was going to do with her life. So, she wonders into the garage one day and discovers Fred working on a car. So she asks him about it. She listens and she learns. Eventually, they stop talking about cars. Daphne asks about Fred’s inventions and Fred asks about Daphne’s hobbies. They are fast friends and once they get close enough, Fred tells Daphne about his parents. Daphne immediately pledges to help her friend (and now secret crush) figure out what happened to his parents.

Velma is Daphne’s genius best friend. They were roommates in college. The building Velma had all her lab classes in had Daphne’s last name on it. Velma worked hard to get her scholarship for her forensic chemistry degree, and she was not going to let some spoiled, rich, daddy’s girl, ruin it for her. But one night Velma was walking back to her dorm after dark. Everyone knows to be wary on a college campus after dark, but Velma had just studied her brain into mush. She got cornered by some drunk asshole. Velma in her fear and panic, froze. Her voice wouldn’t work, and she feared for her life, when suddenly, the guy gets punched in the face. By Daphne. The guy crumples to the ground, Daphne grabs Velma by the wrist, and they don’t stop running until they are safely back in their dorm. Velma never doubts her again.

Now, for all their skills and knowledge, none of the three of them, know how to cook. Which is where Shaggy and Scooby come in. I saw someone (on Twitter, I think) say that Shaggy could have diabetes (I don’t know anything about diabetes so I am really sorry about any inaccuracies) and Scooby is Shaggy’s low blood sugar alert dog. I really like the idea that Shaggy is a licensed dietitian, and the only one who knows how to cook. After every case, shaggy herds them all back home and makes a nice, home cooked meal for everyone. Lasagna, stir fry, curry, soup, idk food.

Shaggy is Fred’s roommate, after college. They have a deal, Shaggy cooks, Fred cleans.

In my mind, Scooby starts off as a normal dog. On the gang’s very first case together, they encounter the series’ over all villain, or maybe the first villain they face is an actual witch or something I don’t know, but this witch is caught and tries to put a curse on the gang, but it hits Scooby instead, and now he’s a talking dog. He’s still very much Shaggy’s alert dog, but I like to think he becomes concerned with everyone’s health at least a little bit. They do all that running around, and all these mysteries they solve are very high stress, so he likes to make sure they get plenty of rest.

I’m not really sure about their first case, but I think every episode would start with a grizzly murder. We are using the R rating for blood and guts and bones and death. Not sex or nudity. And Fred is the only one who gets to swear.

Now, Daphne is the one that talks to clients. If they’re particularly shaken up, Shaggy will make them a hot drink and maybe give them a blanket.

I call it Scooby Doo: Private Investigators

I have more thoughts about this, so if you want to know more please ask!!

[blindmagdalena]

If A-Train was able to get a redemption arc, I don’t see why Homie couldn’t get one (I know he won’t). It’s just so annoying to me when people say Homie is irredeemable. I mean of all the villains of the show, he actually has a reason to be one based on what Vought did to him as a child and then as an adult. Like duh. What did they think would happen?? A-Train on the other hand, didn’t really have a reason to be a villain. He grew up with a loving family. He just turned out to be an asshole but gets a redemption arc. I just really want justice for Homie but it’ll never happen in canon. Thank goodness for fanfic and all the wonderful work you do!!!

so, i feel like there's a fundamental misunderstanding of the redemption arc here. the real reason Homelander is "irredeemable" is because he doesn't seek redemption. he has neither the moral capacity nor the desire.

redemption arcs aren't about who has the saddest backstory or who's more "justified" in their villainy. they're about people who feel genuine remorse for their actions and make the choice to do better. to atone.

Homelander doesn't believe he's in the wrong. he fully believes that he is justified in everything he does, and everyone he hurts. unless that CORE truth of his character changes, no, he cannot have a redemption arc.

A-Train, on the other end, is a perfect example of a well-executed redemption arc. he was absolutely NOT an asshole for no reason. sure, he wasn't raised in a lab, but his life was still FULL of abuse and exploitation. from the moment he was born, his parents pumped him full of an experimental drug. his father died when he was still a baby, and his mother worked two jobs while his young brother raised him. kids can't raise kids. his situation was tragic. i mean, for god's sake, his powers developed when he was a three year old (!!!!!!!!!!) because he was running away from the bullets of a deadly shooting towards his home.

so from the age of three, he became the breadwinner for his family. he was trained and likely performed in all kinds of ways. there's no way he didn't with how poor his family was. once he was old enough, he got picked up into Vought's programming and continued to endure god knows what kind of abuse from them. we know for a FACT that every child star of Vought ends up miserable and ruined in some way from the shit they're put through.

remember why he fell in love with Popclaw? "Here's someone who isn't afraid to be happy."

that's heartbreaking. he worked his ass off his entire life and didn't even know how to be happy because of it. even when he went to GodU, Brink commented that he was "the most driven kid he trained." because he had no choice! he was the one supporting his family out of poverty.

i'm not saying A-Train is perfect. i'm not even saying he wasn't an asshole. he was! but to claim he had no reason to turn out the way he did isn't fair. he did a lot of shitty things, he turned to drugs when his powers started to fail him, and he accidentally killed a woman because he was blitzed out of his mind on V... doing a drug run for Homelander. he's then forced by Homelander to kill the woman he loves. he did a cowardly, vile thing, and he has expressed nothing but anguish over it ever since.

but like... in the grand scheme of things, was he really that bad? he spirals and struggles. he gets mocked, he tries desperately to find his identity. the fact his brother shames him for not being connected to a community he was unplugged from because he was shunted into fame and exploitation at a young age sucks.

Reggie, that sweet little boy, was failed in every conceivable way and he became a dysfunctional adult that did shitty stuff because of it. now he's gained perspective and he's working to make different choices. i've been hugely invested in his arc because it's GOOD character work.

so while i appreciate and agree with the sentiment and wanting better for Homelander, redemption comes to those who seek it. so far, we have not seen any indication Homelander ever will. maybe he'll pull a Darth Vader moment at the eleventh hour for Ryan's sake, who knows!

either way, on his own merit, A-Train deserves the chance to be and do better.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

There's this weird thing going on Reddit right now where people are claiming that legally, Rhaenyra children are not bastards. And I was wondering if you agree or disagree. I think that people are just making up their own canon lore at this point.

Hi anon,

I think what gets kind of muddled in this discussion is what "legally" means in the context. Generally speaking, children born within wedlock are considered legitimate until proven otherwise. Now in the medieval world, it's not like you were issued a birth certificate that you could whip out and say see, it says right here who the father is! There were no DNA tests, it was all a matter of word, and by and large a woman's virtue was her word, and it was what kept her and her children protected within the framework of medieval marriage. But the reason why bastardy matters in this context is also important. It's not like Rhaenyra is trying to collect child support here, nor is she a common merchant's wife whose husband has decided just to roll with it. She's the heir to the throne and the parentage of her children is a matter of inheritance and dynastic succession, so it's not a situation where a legal loophole is particularly helpful as a gotcha. There is not at this point in history a comprehensive codified law that clearly defines what these terms mean and defines the rights and obligations of parents and children legitimate and illegitimate, mostly you have combinations of precedent, tradition, oath, and a healthy dose of might makes right.

(I saw another reply to this question in which the responded basically goes, "free yourself from the shackles of this construct! Marriage isn't real it's an oppressive institution and the idea of bastardy is made up, so let it go," and while it's true that marriage, legitimacy, etc. are all social constructs and not absolute states of being, they started off as having a functional purpose within a certain social framework. And this is a basic problem a lot of people have with George's world, it's not that we have to have the views of a 12th century French peasant, or that everything has to be historically accurate, but George chose the medieval world as a setting for a reason, and it's not just an aesthetic one. Characters in even a quasi-historical setting have to act within the constraints of that setting. We have to understand that people don't know what they don't know. The medieval world doesn't have any framework for the introduction of feminist ideals. Westeros hasn't even had a Christine de Pizan yet. You couldn't walk up to a medieval peasant woman and say "marriage is a tool of patriarchal oppression and bastardy is a social construct," they'd look at you like you had two heads. And so we have to acknowledge that you can't simply start dismantling existing social structures if the framework doesn't exist to replace them with something better that offers more protections for a broader group of people, and at this point it definitely doesn't. Making an exception for one very privileged woman does not mean progress for all women, instead it often means destabilization of the flawed system that does exist, and even more violence against those less powerful in order to enforce the exceptional status).

So from a medieval point of view, marriage was pretty much a non-negotiable for a woman. And women weren't simply getting married because they were pressured into it by their families or because their fathers were opportunistic assholes, they got married because unmarried women had no legal status or standing. In most places they could not sign contracts or own land. A woman could join the church or get married (or become a prostitute, but it's not like sex workers had freedoms or protections either). Divorce wasn't a thing, and annulment was hard to get and usually available only as a tool for men to set aside their wives. So, for all intents and purposes, once you were married, that was generally it, you were stuck for life (the upside is that widows did get a lot more freedom, so marrying an older guy and waiting it out was not a bad option sometimes, all things considered). But what marriage did provide was assurance that you and your children would be protected and provided for. Marriage was a practical agreement, involving dowries, inheritances, and alliances sealed in blood. And this is one of the reasons why bastards could not inherit. Inheritance for once's children was one of the few perks of a marriage for a woman (this is, incidentally, why Alicent is so pressed about her children being effectively disinherited. There is NO reason for her, as an eligible maiden of good standing, to marry a man who will not provide for her sons, king or not). And of course, a man's bastards are obvious and are disqualified from inheriting (setting aside legitimization because it is not nearly the easy out that people think it is). You can't really pass them off as legitimate because your wife clearly knows which children she gave birth to, whereas a man might be told he is the father of a child when that child's father is in fact someone else.

In a dynastic marriage, all of this becomes even more important. Marriages were made as alliances and to strengthen the ties between kingdoms or houses. A child seals the marriage agreement by binding two bloodlines and creating kinship bonds that will last beyond the current generation. Those kinship bonds can ensure peace between kingdoms at war, trade agreements, and military aid. Passing a bastard off as trueborn breaks that agreement; it violates the very principle by which the agreement was made. And in this context, it doesn't actually matter if the father claims the children as his, because in a dynastic marriage inheritance is not just a personal matter, it's a matter of the state. The truth matters to a great many people, more than just the immediate family. A lie doesn't become the truth simply because the liar isn't caught, and there's no statute of limitations or court ruling that will ever put the matter to rest for good. Passing off a bastard as trueborn destabilizes the succession and breaks the dynastic bonds that the marriage was meant to establish. When the bastard heir in question attempts to take the throne, it won't be a smooth transition.

So what does it mean that Laenor and Corlys agree to pass Rhaenyra's children off as trueborn? It means that their bastardy cannot be proven at the moment insofar as the legal father, Rhaenyra's husband, is playing along and covering for Rhaenyra, and Viserys is backing them up by giving this his "legal" stamp of approval. But again, our view that it's no one else's business but Laenor and Rhaenyra's and that Viserys "legalized" their status is very modern. Jaehaeyrs and Alysanne were not considered married in the eyes of the Westerosi until they'd had a bedding ceremony, that is, the consummation of their marriage was witnessed. Royal marriages and the children that come from them are a public matter because the succession affects everyone in the realm. Laenor, Corlys, and Viserys can protect those children in the short term, but Laenor and Corlys and Viserys won't live forever, and they could withdraw their support for those children and renounce them as bastards at any time. Harwin could admit to fathering them, Rhaenyra and Harwin could get caught in the act, or someone else close to them might confess. Sure right now the black faction are all one big happy family, but 20 years down the line when bastard Jace takes the throne over trueborn Aegon III? There are multiple people in the family who could confess to knowledge of the bastardy, including Aegon III himself. The bastardy is too obvious and there are too many legitimate heirs of both house Targaryen and house Velaryon getting pushed aside in favor of bastard born children for it to be an issue that simply disappears because Rhaenyra and Laenor say so.

So "legal bastardy" is a pretty meaningless concept when it comes to royal succession because it's not a matter that's going to be settled by some neutral third party in a court of law. What matters in the long run is not whether or not Laenor claimed the kids, what matters is whether or not the situation is questionable enough that people with the power to challenge it might challenge it. And we see even within the actual narrative of the Dance that this is indeed the case. There is already a situation brewing with the other branches of the Velaryon family who are rightfully pretty pissed to see their ancestral seat pass to someone with no blood ties to the family (and as an aside, people will say Vaemond was self-serving, and of course he was, but that doesn't make him wrong, and maybe Baela or Rhaena should have inherited instead, but neither they nor their father were pressing their claims because they were backing up the bastard claimants, so was Vaemond supposed to do that for them?). And yes the king and Rhaenyra can cry treason and they can kill Vaemond and cut out tongues, but using force to silence people for telling the objective truth is by definition tyranny, and that's exactly the sort of situation that would get the nobility nervous. Because if Rhaenyra has to silence people already and she's not even queen yet, what will Jace have to do when he takes the throne? That's the real problem, not the "legal" status of Jace and his brothers, but the practical ramifications of hiding the truth.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Can you do Jeff, Ben, Liu, Masky, EJ, and Toby with a child experimented reader? Like they have scars and there wrists are swollen from being restrained, and everything? 

𝕀'𝕞 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕘𝕦𝕪𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕦𝕡 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕗𝕗/𝕝𝕙

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕠 @𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕤-𝕟-𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖!! 𝔾𝕠 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜!

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘!!

Jeff the Killer

He's a total insensitive asshole at first

"God damn kid, the fuck happened to your wrists? You cut yourself or somethin'?"

When you start sniffling and crying he knows he's fucked up

"Oh shit, wait hey I-I didn't mean it!"

One 3 hour long lecture from Slender and EJ later about how you do not in fact, cut yourself, you were held as an experiment for your entire life, he feels like he's come out a changed man

He is too much of an asshole to apologize, but he will try to make it better by initiating small talk

"You know, I was kind of an experiment too in a way"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean you know, I definetly didn't have it as bad as you but when I was growing up, my parents would force me to do things just to see how i'd react. And you know, how I look now is kind of a result of that"

You definetly don't like him after that, but you feel a little better

Jeff is an acquired taste for most people

No one just likes Jeff when they meet him LMAO

But as he continues to try and relate to you, you can commend him for trying

You still don't like him that much, but he's alright

Ben Drowned

He doesn't even mention it

He notices your scars and stuff, yeah, but he doesn't bring it up

1, he doesn't care enough to ask

2, he doesn't wanna make you upset

But sometimes, it's the guy that's too busy playing video games to actually listen to what you're saying that people trauma dump on

Which he doesn't mind

He's not a gossiper, and he forgets everything so chances are, if you tell Ben something, he's taking it to the grave

Er...second grave???

So as you sit there, telling him all you endured, he just sits there quietly

Maybe occasionally popping in with a "Damn that's crazy"

He probably isn't listening im sorry

Or maybe he is idk

The only way to really tell if he was is if months later, you mention something offhand and he's like

"Oh yeah I remember that. That's when a little bit of your skull was removed, right?"

And you'll just look at him like 'you were actually listening????'

Homicidal Liu

Liu, like Ben, notices but doesn't say anything

He and Jeff had a similar childhood, but even if he didn't, he still wouldn't risk bringing up trauma

But sometimes he gets a little concerned

Like if your wrists look a little more swollen than usual, then he will ask if he can see them

And he'll carefully look them over before getting an ointment that's supposed to help with swelling and rubbing it on them

He also has a lot of scars, so he gets the insecurity that comes with them

If he notices you covering up your arms or neck or wherever, he will offer one of his cardigans or scarves

And he will help adjust it so that it fits on you just right

Once it's on he will tell you how amazing you look

And if you really wanted, he'd let you keep the stuff he gives you

Or he'd go out shopping with you for something that better suits your style

Whichever you want, really

Eyeless Jack

He's probably one of the first people you meet when you get to the manor

And probably the one you see the most often

He is tasked with giving you your daily medicines, checkups, etc

He understands that a hospital room probably will bring up some trauma for you, so if you want to do your checkups in your room or somewhere else in the manor, he'd allow it

Really all he does is put lotion on your bruises, anti-itching ointment on where you were bound, cleaning and bandaging wounds, cleaning your scars, and giving you any medicine you might need

After that, he reminds you to be careful around your bandaged areas, and to try not to itch where he put the ointment, and then you're good to go

If you want, he'll give you a candy of your choice and a sticker

You do have a designated therapist, like all other members of the manor, but if you wanted to open up to him too he'd be ok with that

You opening up about your experiences also helps him give you the right medical treatment

And he assures you, that he and every other medical professional in the manor will never treat you how you were treated then

Of course, he understands that overcoming trauma is a process, and especially with medical professionals in your situation

But he will continue to accommodate whatever you need in the meantime to make you feel more comfortable

Toby

Toby from the beginning makes it clear that you can talk to him anytime you need

He loves helping people feel better, and would love to help you feel better

So if you do decide to open up to him, he will show you his own wounds and scars to make you feel better about them

He also helps you see that taking your medicine is cool and radical

(Take your meds kids, they're there to help you)

He will accompany you to the medical wing when you are finally able to go into hospital rooms

He wants you to feel safe, and if you need a break, he will be there to comfort you

He will also let you come with him when he needs to go to the medical wing, just to show you that everyone needs medical help sometimes, and that it's not scary here

He will let you touch his bandages so that you can see it's completly normal and helps your body get better

He's definetly the best to have around for medical reasons

[randomtheidiot]

MCU Loki hate.

Anyone else think that MCU!Loki is a completely unlikable asshole? Like, his parents have done nothing but love and support him and he still won’t shut the fuck up about how Thor is the favorite child. He’s been shown nothing but love and kindness by Odin and Frigga, (his REAL parents because adoption is valid) he’s a space prince living in a lavish castle, he gets away with an inordinate amount of bullshit, he’s got a significant amount of influence and power even if he isn’t king and the audience is just expected to believe that he’s a poor, sad little neglected baby. And then when he blows up a fucking planet or whatever other bullshit Marvel’s planned for this movie, he’s a “sympathetic villain” and he “needs a hug”. What an ungrateful bitch.

EDIT: To everyone saying “That’s not true”, please explain why in detail or else I’ll simply ignore your comment. I also changed “Marvel” to “MCU” because it was ambiguous earlier. I am sorry about that but nothing else.

EDIT 2: Because people won’t stop bothering me about this, I am going to make it abundantly clear. Anything that is not shown in the movies themselves is not canon and will not be regarded as such in the context of this discussion. This includes deleted scenes, bloopers, cast member opinions and word of god. It has to be in the movies or it isn’t canon.

EDIT 3: YOU KNOW WHAT, FUCK IT. I keep having to refute the same moot points over and over again because god forbid Marvel has writing flaws. Sick of people whining about this, but I refuse to rescind my statement (because I haven’t been proven wrong yet) so I’m turning off reblogs until you all learn how to behave. Now you all have to sit here and seethe about how I don’t like MCU!Loki. Maybe you’ll grow and change as a person because of it.

[steviewashere]

Birthday Blues

Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson CW: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Abuse, Brief Mention of Child Abuse, Brief Mention of Financial Abuse, Brief Mention of Secondary Original Character Death Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has a Stepdad, Steve Harrington Has a Good Mom, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Emotional Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington's Mom is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington's Birthday, Steve Harrington is Loved, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Hopeful Ending, Bittersweet Ending

Based on my own experience with my stepdad and uh...yeah, that's it, basically. Be kind, I guess? 🤷‍♂️

Also on Ao3 because this shit is long.

🫂————————🫂 He thought his twentieth birthday would come with more fanfare. Maybe not the whole calvary. But something simple. A cake, maybe. A card, possibly. Even just a simple “Happy Birthday.” That would’ve sufficed.

And the problem isn’t with his friends. No. They’ve sent him messages over the walkie since the clock hit midnight on June 29th. Made plans for the next few days. Promised birthday gifts tonight. He wondered if everything was supposed to be a surprise: the gifts and cake and plans. But Robin had already reached out, promised him that she already spoke with everybody, made sure to tell them how he doesn’t like surprises; not after Vecna, not after his ankle had been grabbed.

The issue is with his mom’s boyfriend. His ‘stepdad.’

Nobody really knows much about him. Not really. Nothing above: “He’s an asshole. I don't like him.” Which is…a way to make an impression. But he doesn’t really enjoy talking about him.

The boyfriend came into the picture when Steve was seven. When he was naive and confused about the world around him. When he was used to it just being him and his mom for a while. His birth dad had passed on really young—nothing that could’ve been prevented, but it wasn’t any sort of accident, and Steve doesn’t like talking about it; so he just doesn’t. But the boyfriend came along after so much nothing. After a life half-lived.

He was kind, at first. Interested. Capable. Made Steve’s mom happy. Took her out for dates—which left Steve with a babysitter; then on his lonesome when he turned thirteen—he bought her things, promised the moon, was at her beck and call. He even cared about Steve. Introduced him to the world of Spiderman comic books and baseball games and driving with the windows down. Had been there for home baseball games, Steve’s first piano recital, and for the first handful of birthday parties. He helped, when there was nothing. He helped, even when they had everything.

Then came the alcohol.

Steve remembers it clear as day. The vacation they all took together. They’d taken a plane from Indianapolis to Seattle. And it was sort of cool, Steve figured. The hotel with the indoor pool and the double-wide beds and the really nice view over the tops of tall apartment buildings. It was the first of many trips; one of the last Steve went on. What came with the nice hotel, though, was a bar and grill down at the lobby.

And sure, it was a time for celebration. Of sorts. They were heading out for Disneyland, Steve had been wide awake since the night before, his mom had bought them matching shirts so that nobody got lost. It was ideal, fun, what say you. But then the boyfriend came upstairs, a cup of something sticky in his hand, and a glaze to his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“We’re celebrating,” he had slurred, “it’s alright, just for the night. Let’s have some fun.”

It didn’t stop there, though. Steve hadn’t known why at first. But then came the arguments over the next couple months after that decision. When the recycling bin was full of more beer bottles than empty containers of yogurt. When Richard was slurring his words earlier and earlier in the evening. When he’d sleep a good amount of the day, try and right himself from work, barely talk to anybody when he came back, and already had a bottle in hand by the time conversations started. The arguments were unrelenting, though. He could hear them through the floor of his bedroom: “Laura!”, “Richard.”. A few tense moments would pass after Laura, Steve’s mom, would say that name. Steve would leave his bed, in all the right spaces to make sure it didn’t creak, and settle himself by his bedroom door—where he could open it a crack just to hear, just to know, in case something happened and he had to go down there. Then, she’d speak again. Quiet and wet and calm, “I wish you would stop. If not for me, do it for Steven.”

Steve would hold his breath. Waiting. His mom never called him that, not unless he was in trouble, not unless she was serious. And his stomach turned at the thought of it. She’d call him Stevie otherwise, all soft and sweet and soaking—akin to the sugary butter at the bottom of a freshly made cinnamon roll. He liked that. He loved her. He loved Richard, despite all of this.

Until, finally, Richard spoke. “Is that supposed to make me care?” He questioned with ire. “He isn’t mine,” he eventually spat. And then he stormed to their bedroom—downstairs on the first floor, just off of the living room—slammed the door.

His mom wept that night, Steve could relay if asked. And he had been too tied up in his own awful sadness to go downstairs and comfort her. It wasn’t the last time. Wasn’t the last slammed door, or argument, or soft cry; for either of them. At least Mom loves me, he had thought, at least she’s mine.

With the alcohol and that understanding of absent love and those arguments, Steve would instigate them, too. He’d pick fights if only to get Richard to leave the house quicker. He’d scream and spit and stomp his feet, if only to get time alone. He’d even get fussy with his mom. Because if he could be an ass, get them both to be angry at him, maybe Richard would stay off of her for a little while. Maybe he wouldn’t drink so early. Maybe he’d have to have a conversation about “Steve’s antics.” It only made him more distant. It only made him angrier.

And with all of that in mind, he stopped the birthday celebrations. He stopped caring. He stopped saying “I love you,” when Steve went to bed. He stopped being a dad.

Because Steve wasn’t his. And he wanted to make sure the whole world knew it.

In comes his twentieth birthday, though. And he thought, maybe, that Richard would care. That he’d do something similar to when Steve was a kid. Make pancakes and wake him up with a soft knock to his door and sing the birthday song. He supposed, though, that that was all so foolish. That he wasn’t a little kid, so why would Richard do any of that? Maybe to prove himself, that’s something. Maybe care at all.

His mom had said something at midnight. Then again at nine in the morning. Then again over scrambled eggs and bacon. Made plans. Ushered a card full of cash and the Duran Duran album he didn’t have yet, Notorious, on cassette into his hands. He thanked her, kissed the top of her head, and put his things away upstairs. Richard still had said nothing. In fact, he was snoring through the wall. And the evidence of his latest binge had been scattered across the kitchen countertops before making it to the recycling bin; Steve should know, he had to put them in there and his hands came away smelling of cheap beer—it’s not even the good stuff, how can he drink this shit, he asked himself.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. Sure, his chest caved in something funny. And his throat sort of went dry. He went to his car, though. And he drove off to where Robin had told him to go. To Eddie’s new double-wide trailer, a damn replica of his old one on the outside. Where everybody was already parked and waiting. Hanging out outside, sodas and…beer in hand.

He took a steadying breath and forced his way over to them. Let them shout ‘Happy Birthday’ at him. And then he took a seat by Eddie. He was in a pair of loose black basketball shorts, a white t-shirt, and barefoot. His hair was piled up. And he was drinking. 

“Hey baby,” Eddie greeted. He leaned over the side of the sofa they were on, dug around in what Steve assumed was a cooler, and held out a weeping beer can. “Technically, it’s not legal, but I’m not going to tell anybody.”

Steve eyed it for a few long seconds. Enough that Eddie’s hand wavered, the beer threatening to fall to the floor. He looked back up. “No—uh—no, I don’t want that. Can…I’m going to sound like a dick, but can I make a request?”

Eddie put the beer away with a sidelong glance. He furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s your birthday, Stevie. Of course you can make a request.”

“Can we put the beer away? I don’t…It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Another odd glance to Steve, Eddie gave. His mouth pinched. He swished his near empty can in his hand. How many has he had, Steve wondered briefly, some weird pulse of panic in his belly. “Sure,” Eddie agreed slowly. “You going cold turkey or something? Could’a sworn you had one the other day when I saw you?”

He watches Eddie stand up briefly, pour out his beer over the side of the porch, and then place it in a clear garbage bag that’s been tied to the railing. There’s already three or four beer cans in there—Steve knows that’s what they are, they all say Miller and the cans the kids have are bright red or green. He looks back to Eddie’s face when he settles down again, an arm thrown over the back of the couch, hair falling loosely from his bun, sweat on his brow, sweat or beer on his upper lip.

“I just don’t want people drinking today, please.” And he feels kind of silly. Having to explain himself.

But Eddie’s hand curls down from the back of the couch, dangling loose at the back of Steve’s neck. Fingers trailing over the top notches of his spine. “You got it, sugar. I’ll have Robs put it away inside, okay?” Steve nods loosely, lets Eddie holler out, and relaxes into his side.

The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly. There were gifts: hairspray from Dustin, some artwork from Will, a new basketball from Lucas, matching shirts from Robin, a book he’d asked for from Eddie, and cards from the others who couldn’t find something in time or afford anything. He’s thankful for it all because it’s more than he expected. And there’s cake, his favorite, German chocolate with Ferrero Rocher candies on the borders; “Nance and I made it,” Robin explained and he gave her a knowing look.

It was all so normal. So good. So sweet.

Just like it had been last year. Even the year before that. And the years prior, when it was his mom and Tommy and Carol and Nancy. And the years before that, when it was Richard and his mom.

He really wants to cry about it.

When the party dwindles down, it’s just him and Eddie. Eddie’s putting out the last of the recycling and cleaning up some dishes, to which he adamantly refused to let Steve help with. And so Steve takes advantage, using the new phone.

He dials his house number and waits as it rings for his mom to pick up.

“Harrington household, Laura speaking,” she greets, her voice…nasally. Unusually so.

“Hey Mom,” he greets back, “it’s…Well, you know it’s Steve. Just called to…wanted to check-in. How’s everything going?”

She shuffles on the other end. Clears her throat. Sniffs. “He’s not going to say it, Stevie, I’m sorry,” she says, voice unreasonably apologetic. “I tried to get him to at least call this number you gave me, you know for your Eddie friend. And he…he just scoffed at me. Said some things, you know how he is.”

“Oh,” he mutters. His voice must do something weird, because Eddie’s slowing his wash on the dishes, leaning further into the counter edge to look at Steve. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the usual, Stevie. It’s just—“ She sighs, a great heaving thing. “—Just the usual. He’s already out to the store. Took the last bit of my cash for it; he spent all his own. Left me here with microwaved leftovers. Might turn in early.”

“I can give back the bit of cash you gave—“

“No,” she rushes. “No, Stevie. That’s your money. If it came back to me, he’d probably take it anyway. Don’t worry about it, alright? Just…If your friend can let you, I think you should stay the night there. Richard’s…he’s got the whiskey out from the den. Just stay with Eddie for now. I’ll take you out tomorrow for cake, okay? We’ll make a little date out of it. Just us. Like it was…Like it was before.”

He stands still for a moment. The phone cradled in his hands by his ear. Her words ringing out so loud, yet so soft. He really wants to cry about it.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters in his silence, “I’m sorry he ruined this for you.” She shuffles again. Probably got one arm wrapped around her waist, stepping to the side in her slippers. Like she always does when she has to call her sister about…him. She sighs again. “I’d leave him if I could. God, Steve. I would create whole galaxies for just us to live in if I could. I wish I knew how to fix this. I’m sorry I can’t fix this.”

“It’s alright, Mama,” he whispers, utterly broken. “’T’s alright. We’ll do cake tomorrow, yeah? I’ll pay for us to get milkshakes for old times sake, right? Like…” He swallows. Murmurs, “Like before.”

Just off to the side, Eddie’s inched closer. The dishes completely abandoned now. Steve doesn’t want to look at him, thinks he’ll break down if he does. But his body heat is welcoming, wrapping around him like a warm hug.

“Like before,” she echoes. Sniffs. “Just heard the car outside. I’ll…Call me in the morning, okay? I’ll let you know how tonight went. I love you, Stevie. I love you, don’t forget that.”

He takes a breath, it stutters like the skip over a scratch on a record. “I love you, too,” he breathes out. “Be safe,” he murmurs, “you have the address if you need to get away. Or…call me if you need me to get you.”

“I’ll be okay,” she mutters, a wisp of a smile to her voice. “Now, you go have fun. Tell Eddie I said hi. And that…Tell him I say thank you for keeping you.”

They share their goodbyes almost hastily. Right as her words fall through the receiver, the front door seems to open, and the phone is hung up before he can chance anything else. The dial tone is blearing in his ears. He keeps the phone cradled close, like maybe she’ll reach a hand out through the speaker and caress his face. Kind of wants her to.

And he doesn’t have the chance to stop himself from crying. Trembling where he stands. Tears streaking hot and fast down his cheeks, over his jaw. He doesn’t make a noise, but it’s a near damn thing.

“Baby?” Eddie calls softly. He takes a hesitant step forward. And he’s closer than Steve thought. Right at his left side. His hands reach out and take the phone from Steve, hanging it back up. He wraps his palms over Steve’s biceps, barely turning him. “Sweetheart?” He calls out again, softer this time. Bending down just a little to make them stare at each other. He moves up to Steve’s face, cupping his cheeks, thumbs working over the tears. “’S everything alright?”

He sobs something little at that. Closing his eyes so he can’t see Eddie. “He’s so selfish,” he manages to cry out, “Why doesn’t he care?”

“Who, sweetheart? Who’s ass do I need to…” Steve finally stares back. And whatever it is that’s there, Eddie seems to understand. “Oh,” he coos, “oh baby.” In a flurry of movement, Steve is pulled in tight and close. Haphazardly dragged back to the sofa and plopped down almost unceremoniously, if Eddie weren’t holding him so carefully. There’s a palm at the center of his back and one on his head. Both of them firm and welcomed and warm.

“He—Just—He just doesn’t,” Steve hiccups between breaths, “Never—Never cared.”

Eddie shushes him gently. Leans back against the armrest behind him, and pulls Steve on top. His face is tucked into Eddie’s left shoulder, where it’s awkwardly stuffed between the armrest and the backing, and he just cries.

There haven’t been a lot of moments where Steve’s cried over this. Maybe once or twice when he was in high school, but that’s about it. Otherwise, he was getting it out through anger or ignoring it altogether or trying to talk it out with his mom. So many conversations and so many arguments and so much just shoved inside his chest. He thinks if he weren’t getting it out right now, soaking the fabric of Eddie’s white shirt, he’d probably burst at the seams, maybe teeter, fall right off the deep end into something murky and thick. He’d probably die from it. Have a heart attack, maybe, like his dad did.

When there’s nothing more to cry out, he just breathes hot and heavy and choking over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie murmurs, fingers petting through Steve’s hair, “we’ve got nowhere to be right now, okay? You can fall apart here, I’ll still catch you.”

He sniffs. “I just…I just want him to love me,” Steve admits quietly, “To think of me as his kid and to want to do better and to just be somebody I wanna be around.” His arms wrap snuggly around Eddie’s waist, pushing himself further into the hold of their bodies.

“Can I ask something?” Eddie asks gently.

“You just did,” Steve murmurs, voice crackling with the joke. It’s almost hollow coming out of his mouth.

But Eddie snorts anyway. “Okay…Fine. Two questions. Does this have anything to do with the whole beer thing earlier?”

Steve stiffens, brain fighting to find an excuse, but he figures it’s best to just be honest. Even as shameful as it seems to be some days. “Yeah,” he sighs, giving in. Swallows harshly, his jugular moving over Eddie’s shoulder, the sharp outline of the joint against his neck. “Yeah, it does. He drinks like everyday. Sometimes he…some days he doesn’t, claims he’s stopping for good, says he won’t pick it back up. But then he’s doing it the next day and I—“ He shrugs where he can move. “I just don’t get it, I guess. And I…I try so hard to not think of him badly, y’know? He’s probably got shit he’s working through. But it’s almost everyday, Eddie. He’s almost always drunk. Always arguing with my mom. I can hear him through the floor of my room,” he admits. “I want to feel bad, but the way he treats me—the way he treats my mom—“

“How does he treat you? Just focus on you right now, Steve.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes a harsh sigh through his nose. He can’t bring himself to pull his head up, to look Eddie in the eyes. “I want to feel bad,” he repeats slowly. “But he’s so awful. He’s not a good person when he’s drunk, Eddie. He just riles me up, argues with me, tears me back down. That sort of shit.” Steve shifts, rolling his head over onto Eddie’s chest. The depth of his breath under Steve’s ear.

“He told me to go fuck myself the other night,” Steve murmurs, “I don’t know why, but that like…It solidified in me the fact that he doesn’t love me. I don’t know why I expected him to tell me happy birthday today. Why he’d choose this year out of ‘em all to finally be the person I expected him to be. Just my stupid brain, I guess.”

Eddie’s arms tighten around him. Hands petting over where they rest. “It’s okay to be disappointed, Steve,” he carefully states. “You wanted the best for him and he let you down, tore you apart in the process. You needed him to be your dad and he’s made no effort, it’s not…You’re not stupid for wanting that love.”

“He used to be so nice, Eds. I used to love him. I want to love him, but he makes it so hard. God, that makes me sound like such a terrible person, to admit something like that out loud.”

“No, Stevie,” Eddie immediately says. “You’re not a bad person for wanting to love somebody. And you’re not a bad person for refusing yourself to love them. He’s hurt you, Steve. And you’re allowed to feel how you need to.

“And…” Eddie’s hands clasp over the middle of Steve’s back. Heavy and sure. “From experience,” he musters, “with my dad, sometimes you just gotta let go of that love. Sometimes you just gotta tell yourself that it’s not possible. Because…honestly, in some ways, it is impossible. My dad had every opportunity, and yet he chose alcohol and drugs and crime over me.

“I miss who he was…Before my mom died. I miss his laugh and his hugs and our inside jokes. Miss the way he used to play guitar and the late night drives we’d go on. I miss when he taught me good things, like catching lightning bugs in our palms and how to make a good smash burger and how to tell entertaining stories.

“I don’t miss him now, though,” Eddie confesses quietly. The words almost lost in Steve’s hair. “He hurt me in irreparable ways. Mentally and…and physically. But what got me through the worst of it, before I came here, was knowing there were other people out there who’d love me. Who love me and continue despite who I am or what I’ve experienced. Like Wayne. And my grandma, at the time. My friends; Corroded Coffin especially.

“I could spend a million lifetimes unloved by my dad, but at least it’s the real love I was surrounded by. Sometimes people are so damaged that they like it, they like the cracks they can trace and the anger in their blood, they almost enjoy it—they usually don’t get better. My dad was that way. Even when he quit the couple times he did, he always found his way back to that alcohol, those drugs.” Eddie’s fingers absentmindedly trace over the notches of Steve’s spine. His breath a little heavier, a bit raspier. And Steve is absorbing the words. “Sometimes people want to get better and they don’t know how. And that’s when help is needed, outsourced hands, intervention, that kinda shit.”

“We’ve tried,” Steve breathes heavily. “My mom and I have tried so damn hard, Eddie.”

“What’s he usually say in response to that help?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve takes a deep breath. Sighs, “That he doesn’t want it.” He slowly brings his left hand to Eddie’s chest, tracing figure eights over his shirt. “I wish he’d want it. I—He was my dad for a little while. Now I just live with a stranger.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Eddie murmurs, “for what it’s worth. I’m sorry you’re going through this. That you’re still going through this.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not, Stevie. Things don’t have to be this way.”

“It has to be fine,” Steve mutters, “there’s no other way right now. I can’t leave my mom. And my mom can’t leave him. And he won’t stop.”

Eddie takes a careful breath. “You can leave, though. Steve, you’re an adult, you can go,” he softly states.

“I’m not leaving my mom,” Steve snaps lightly. He sniffs, the last of those tears and snot receding. “Sorry,” he breathes. “I just can’t do that to her, Eds. She wouldn’t do it to me. I’m not gonna do it to her.”

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, “then, look at me, sweetheart.” Slowly, careful of the slight tension in his neck, Steve raises his head and stares down at Eddie. There are tear tracks on Eddie’s cheeks. A sheen to his eyes. And Steve begins to reach up, but Eddie holds him down tightly. “You, Steve Harrington, are loved by people who want to do right by you. You, Steve, will have love in so many corners of your life. The love that Dick has isn’t for you and it definitely isn’t for your mom.

“I love you, you hear me? And Wayne does. Hopper does. There, that’s two dads. Your mom loves you, too. She loves you with her whole soul. And you’ve got your friends, Robin and Dustin especially. And you’ll have more, Stevie,” Eddie explains gently, his fingers going back to trace along the edges of Steve’s spine. “I can’t fix things, I’m sorry. And I’m not sure how things turn around. But they will some day. I know it because I lived it. We can’t figure it out right now, but we’ll find our way some time down the line. Focus on the people you’ve got right now, though, Stevie. Not him. He ain’t worth a rat’s ass.”

Steve snorts wetly. His lips tremble and his eyes ache something fierce. He’ll cry forever at this rate, but at least Eddie’s hands move to his cheek, at least he wipes the tears away. “I love you, too,” he breathes. “And I’m sorry that you have to know all this shit. That you had to go through that.”

“I’ll figure out a way to know how to get you through it, too,” Eddie murmurs, smiling softly, his eyes moments away from leaking. “But you’re loved. He ain’t worth it. Don’t go searching for something you ain’t gonna find.”

He drops his head back down and burrows under Eddie’s chin. At least he found this. “When I’m ready to go, will you have space for me?”

“Always and forever,” Eddie rushes to answer. “Remember, baby? You fall and I catch you. You come knocking on my door, I’m gonna answer it. And if you climb in bed with me, I’ll hold you close and never let go.”

Steve nods gently, pushing himself in further. He sighs. “Thank you,” he mutters. Eddie squeezes him in. “My mom said hi and thank you, by the way. Remind me to call her in the morning? I wanna make sure I get her before he wakes up.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, “now let’s get ourselves to bed before we fall asleep on this couch. Gotta be comfortable, don’t we?”

He huffs. “But you’re comfy.”

Eddie snorts. “I love you and I don’t want you to be sore. Come to bed with me?”

Steve wriggles. “Okay,” he relents. “Because I love you and I also don’t want you to be sore.”

And, he supposes, because he's loved.

🫂————————🫂 Sorry if this sucked, I wrote this with a raging migraine and have no grasp on how shit it is. Whoops.

[mysterycitrus]

hi! i just got finished with the second chapter of persephones in hell and!! such a great dick fic and i loved getting to see the titans. but i’m feeling like i’m interpreting things wrong wrt bruce and wanted to clarify.. what are you thoughts on bruce? ik he’s obsessive and has a tendency to manipulate and shut out those close to him, but i’ve never gotten the feeling he’s actually physically or emotionally abusing these kids. i’m picking up a vibe in the fic tho that some of the titans think bruce is abusive (towards dick at least) and i’m wondering if it was your intention to write bruce that way, or just that he’s perceived as such? (i’m aware also that dicks perspective is justifiably skewed)

i could just be over thinking it. sorry for bothering you. i don’t mean this in a “problematic bruce get cancelled” kind of way. i feel bad if it comes across that way sorry i’m just genuinely curious :)

hello! i won’t go into specifics cause this is like… the thesis of part three, but no — i personally don’t subscribe to the idea that bruce is an irredeemable abusive asshole. there’s plenty of evidence for him being one in comics, but a lot of it is dregs of frank miller era masochismo, and i prefer batman to be fundamentally kind.

in saying that tho — the titans are right. i think u would be very hard pressed to find a comic where bruce and dick (of all his kids) don’t have an unhealthy, codependent relationship. bruce inspires debilitating loyalty in many people he works with, but dick has it the absolute worst of everyone because he’s been emotionally regulating bruce since he was eight years old.

when people say dick was parentified, i think there’s some confusion about what it means in this context. it’s not about a child raising their younger siblings (dick was out of the house and an adult by the time jason came around) but more that a child is made responsible for the emotional well-being of their parent. we see this in scarecrow year one, in teen titans year one, and sporadically all over canon. the titans, looking in, see dick still carrying bruce’s expectations well into adulthood and hate it.

i also think bruce being a maliciously abusive character is a disservice to the characterisation of everyone else — there is absolutely no way dick would’ve let bruce adopt anyone else if that was the case. there’s no way babs would. tim isn’t an idiot, he would’ve kept his distance. same with jason. cass has a very twisted understanding of pain, but she could literally read his body language and be able to tell if he was hurting someone on purpose. clark and diana would snap him like a twig.

i think it’s a lot more interesting if a kind person who wants to do good is so pathologically afraid of losing the people he loves that he’ll hurt them in response, and was so traumatised that after twenty years his sole pillar of emotional regulation was a boy who’d just suffered the same trauma he had.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Can you do headcanons about aot men co parenting with reader? Like they have a kid together but aren’t with each other

✩ the aot men & coparenting ✩

eren jaeger makes it hard to coparent. you have to keep reminding yourself you’re not together. but it’s hard to remember that when he keeps flirting with you during drop off & pickup. you’re thankful he’s a great dad.

levi ackerman is kind of snobby. he’s your ex for that reason entirely. he thinks he’s more parental than you and does everything to prove it. ultimately, he takes good care of your child so there’s nothing to complain about besides his ego.

jean kirstein is probably the best co-parent ever. he always insists on doing things together with your child. there’s no bad blood or awkwardness. there may still be a hint of lingering feelings. you can feel it when he looks at you.

armin arlert is pretty easy going when it comes to coparenting your child together. he always keeps you informed of what your little tot is up to. he’s good with communication and always divides the days up equally.

connie springer is…kind of a mess. he’s often late to pick up/drop off. he doesn’t answer the phone immediately either. he makes you worry non stop but your baby always turns up happy and healthy. he blames his irresponsibility on sleeping in late.

reiner braun has the potential to be a team with you. he tries. he always puts you and your child’s well-being first. you just wish he wasn’t so awkward and unsure of things. he hasn’t quite gotten over the breakup but he’s trying to respect you.

bertholdt hoover tries to limit his time with you. he’s here for the kid and doesn’t really have an interest in talking with you, unless it’s something you one hundred percent need to know.

erwin smith couldn’t be anymore typical. he tries to be cool and laidback but he’s actually very uptight about most things. what he says usually goes because you don’t have the energy to argue with him.

zeke jaeger is a surprisingly excellent coparent. he goes above and beyond for you and baby. he likes to be equally involved. he insists on family outings once a week. he wants your child to see that his parents do love each other, even if it’s not in the typical way.

porco galliard is an asshole. a straight up asshole. you hate him. he annoys you terribly. he’s always one upping you by buying whatever you already bought your kid. always spending more money, doing ‘more fun’ things.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not helping my family pay for hospital bills?

🎷🔥 so i can find it later

This is going to need a lot of context right off the bat. I (20'sM) am a gay man that comes from an extremely conservative family. My sister (20'sF) is also a lesbian and recently got married and adopted a child. I'm very proud of her, but that's not the issue.

My parents seem to have little to no issue with my sister marrying a woman. They do have a very big issue with me liking dudes, however. Like, it was the reason my parents got divorced "big issue." I'm not gonna go into everything, but my sister ended up with my dad and I stayed with my mom for reasons I'd rather not share.

Our last parting was on... less than decent terms. Upon finding out that I was of the homosexual variety, my dad flipped his lid. He called me several slurs and said some other very hurtful things, and even made moves to physically attack me. My mom, also a very homophobic woman, stepped in and thankfully talked him down. Then divorce, etc etc.

I saved up enough money to move out when I turned 18 and may have done some impulsive things including completely trashing my mom's bathroom, which I know I'm definitely the asshole for, but in my defense my mom kept "forgetting" to pick up my prescriptions and I was manic (I have bipolar). But, again, I know I'm the AH for that.

I now live with my two best friends R (20sNB) and P (20sM) in a house we all pay for. R comes from money so they help out a lot, and I love them both to death. We kind of have a sort of situationship but none of us are poly? Idk it's weird we're just going with it rn.

Anyway, I bring them up bc we all went to my sister's wedding together, and my parents separately chewed me out for bringing them (and for R daring to wear a dress. They're amab for context) and I obviously argued back bc hey they're my best friends and my sister specifically said it was okay for me to bring them (she and R are also friends and they wouldve been invited regardless of me bringing P) and also because R looks very good in a dress and i can handle them shit-talking me but i will not tolerate slander towards R or P.

At the wedding, I went full no contact with them and told them to lose my number. They, ofc, did Not lose my number and I got several calls from extended family saying about what you would expect them to say, so I switched numbers and gave only my sister and her wife my new number.

My sister. I love her to pieces but sometimes she gets on my nerves. She gives my number to my mom to have "just in case," but she reassures me that she won't give it to my dad or any other family. So far, she's made good on that promise, I just have to deal with periodic calls about getting a girlfriend and having kids.

Now, my dad isn't the healthiest guy out there. He has arthritis, osteoporosis, and several other things that i don't really wanna get into. As he's aged he's only gotten worse and there have been several times he's almost died, but recently he's been put on hospice and has an estimated Not Very Long to live.

Here's where I may be the AH. My dad calls me while I'm at a very important, personal event for R (he got my number from my mom) and goes on a long rant on how I'm an unlovable disgrace and how he fed me and clothed me and I could make up for all that by helping him pay off hospital debt. I say no immediately and tell him that he's never been my dad, only my dna donor, and that he's going to be dead anyway and that selling his house could cover all the bills. He calls me many more names and tells me he wishes I was never born (calling my mom some very derogatory names too (she's asian)) and that i should just go ahead and off myself to save the world someone like me. I tell him he should die faster while he's at it because God knows the world already has enough bigots in it and there could never be too many mentally ill queers.

I hung up, but now I'm thinking I went a bit too far. AITA for not helping out with his hospital bills and yelling at him?

What are these acronyms?

[archangeldyke-all]

Okay first time I regust something.

So the principal call Sev and reader to the office cause little fucker have been in a fight. Cause she defended herself for a bully(like she taught, come on she’s Sevs daughter)

The bully has been bullying her. She ignores it but when the bully does anything to her friends BOOM

LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

you pull up to your daughter's school in a panic, your eyes frantically searching the parking lot for your wife.

sevika's smoking on a bench waiting for you: a habit she's managed to kick unless she's really worried. and she only gets really worried about you and little fucker.

"hi baby" you say as you approach her, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

she tries to hide her cigarette, flicking it away from her body and fanning the air around her. you snort and kiss her head as she hugs you back.

"how's your day goin'?" she asks, taking your hand and walking the two of you toward the school. you scoff.

"was goin' good until i got this call. you?"

"was actually pretty shit. i was sorta glad i had a reason to leave work, until the secretary told me the little shit's bleeding." sevika sighs. you cringe.

your daughter's been having some issues with a girl in her class, a little asshole who seems to think your daughter is an easy target.

your sweet little girl-- despite the fact that sevika's been teaching her self defense and mma since she could walk-- has never done anything to escalate the situations. she just takes the abuse and comes home with tears in her eyes, crying in your or sevika's chest about the stupid little shit who's been terrorizing her.

you've had to talk sevika out of killing the ten year old about five times this month.

but now, as you push into the principal's office and your eyes land on your baby-- her eye swollen shut, her bottom lip puffy and bleeding, her nose broken-- you think tonight sevika might have to be the one holding you back from child-murder.

"oh, baby." sevika whispers. you can hear her heart breaking in her voice. she approaches your daughter carefully, kneeling down in front of the kid and cupping her cheek. "fuck, kid, are you okay?"

your little girl bursts into tears. your heart breaks.

sevika takes a seat beside your daughter, holding her and cooing at her as she pets her hair and lets her cry into her chest. you press a quick kiss to little fucker's head, then turn your angry glare on the principal, sitting in the middle of the room.

"what the fuck happened?" you growl. the old man sighs.

"your daughter attacked her classmate natasha on the playground." he says.

"that stupid bitch natasha's been pushing my kid around for weeks. and if i recall correctly, you did nothing about it 'cause natasha's parents are big donors." you growl, your fingers clenching into fists at your side.

"ma'am, verbal taunts are different from physical violence."

"did you beat her ass, baby?" sevika's voice cuts in. you chuckle as you watch the principal's face fall in horror, and then look over to your family to watch your daughter nod against sevika's shoulder.

"knocked her front teeth out." she mumbles. you burst into laughter, and sevika ruffles her hair.

"atta girl." she praises.

"ladies, please, we can't encourage this kind of behavior in response to some light teasing--"

"it wasn't light teasing, mr. rolla. she was bothering little jamie, the kid with the crutches in my class. kept kicking his crutches out from under him, so i kicked her feet out from under her. see how she'd like it." she grumbles.

you can't contain your smile. sevika can't either. mr. rolla seems appalled.

"so what are you doing to this natasha kid?" you ask the man. he gawks at you.

"n-nothing! natasha is currently at home nursing her injuries, i think she's suffered enough!"

"listen here you piece of sh--"

"sev." you cut your wife off with a hand, and she huffs. your kid giggles a little, and you wink at her before turning your attention back to the principal in front of you. "what's her punishment?" you ask. he sighs.

"suspension for rest of the week."

you shake your head, scoff, then turn your back to the man.

"well kid, looks like you got a week vacation!" you say to your girl. she smiles at you.

"ma'am, it's not a vacation it's meant to be a punis--"

"maybe me and ma'll take work off-- we can have a family week vacation." sevika suggests. your daughter's eyes grow wide, and you grin.

"i like the sound of that, babe, good thinking." you say. "i think we should get ice cream for lunch today, too. something cold to help that swollen lip of yours." you say.

little fucker bursts into giggles, and sevika grins, hoisting your girl up to carry her on her hip, then walking out of the office. you turn to follow them, but stop before you can fully leave, turning around and glaring at the flabbergasted principal sitting in his desk.

"you know mr. rolla, i know that big donors are essential for the school's livelihood, i get why you're goin' so easy on natasha. but... i also know that you and old ms. washington have been hooking up on the regular. and... i happen to know that mrs. rolla gets her hair done on that salon off 54th? on the first of the month, right? it would be a shame if she were to get a visitor at her next hair appointment with some bad news..."

the man in front of you goes deathly pale, and you giggle, turn on your heel, and leave the office.

outside, sevika and your girl are giggling with one another as they wait for you. when the three of you start your trek back outside, sevika grabs your hand and shoots you a questioning look. you giggle, then lean in to whisper in her ear.

"may or may not have threatened to ruin his marriage."

sevika grins, looks both ways down the school hallway, then pulls you into a wet, sloppy kiss. you moan against her lips, and her hand trails down to squeeze your ass.

"moms, stop! you're embarrassing me!" your daughter whines.

you and sevika pull apart with guilty chuckles, then continue to walk your kid out of the building and toward the nearest ice cream shop.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 7. Marked Like You

One tragic day changes Dahlia's life forever. Despised by her father and brother, she's spent her entire life trying to be the child and sister she use to be. But nothing she ever does is good enough. She joins the Rider's Quadrant to prove them wrong. Garrick now in his second year has proven he is more than the mark on his skin to his fellow riders, and taken leadership of his own Squad alongside Xaden. Little does he know the girl walking across the parapet is about to send him on a rollercoaster of a year.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

The gym was always empty just after dinner. Most cadets too full of food to even bother with training. Except for tonight. Tonight as I push open the door to the gym attached to where we did assessments a few days ago, are a trio I’ve become very accustomed to seeing together.

Xaden, Bodhi and the other I had come to know as Garrick.

Garrick who never hides his distain towards me. Every time I see him in the halls or make eye contact in battle brief his eyes are quick to harden at the sight of me. I couldn’t blame him. My father had been apart of his parents death. He had every reason to hate me because of my father. And who could blame him with how much of an asshole my dad was. Despite that I couldn’t deny the act was getting kind of old.

The gym isn’t big, but its big enough I can have my own section of the gym and keep away from them. Though since day one, Bodhi has made it a habit to always be near me. Always taking the seat next to me in class and trying to talk to me. You’d think with how much I was ignoring him he’d have gotten the hint to leave me alone. But he hadn’t. He was persistent.

I feel their eyes on me as I make my way over to the opposite side of the gym where the punching bags are. Wanting to let out some frustrations after having another run in with Dain just prior to dinner. Word had apparently spread about my assessment, and he didn’t think I’d fought fairly. You’d think he’d be happy I had won. Exactly what our father had asked from us. No. Apparently I’d fought too dirty for his liking. He wasn’t even there. I hit the bag a little harder than I intend to, a loud smack echoing around the gym as the bag swings wildly on the chain. Out of the corner of my eye I catch all three heads snapping towards me.

I push them from my mind focusing on the bag in front of me. Working through a series of punches and kicks. Though I was itching to get the staff from my bag. It had been nearly a week since I’d used my favourite weapon. A weapon not generally favoured by riders despite it being quite versatile. I could have brought it out for assessments, but I didn’t wont to go all out on my first challenge. Something I knew Emetterio had noted seeing as he had trained me the most.

I end my round with a well placed kick high up on the bag. Stepping back as I attempt to catch my breath. I yelp in surprise as a hand reaches out and stops me from walking into them. I turn to see Bodhi standing behind me, hands raised up in surrender.

”Sorry, didn’t expect you to literally step back into me.” He says with an apologetic smile.

“Well wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

”You’ve got good technique. I take it you’ve been training for a while?” He asks, gesturing to the bag still swinging on the chain from my kick.

”Pretty much my entire life.” I tell him as I start to unwrap my hands. “Not being a dragon rider wasn’t really an option for me.”

For a split second I think Bodhi is surprised by my words. Almost as if he had expected me to have a choice in where I went. But I hadn’t. I never had despite what had happened. To pick anything other the Rider’s Quadrant was a disgrace to the Aetos name apparently.

”Figured you would have had some choice unlike some of us.” He says while following me over to the bench where I had dumped my pack.

I turn to look at him with a tight lipped smile, catching Xaden looking at us over Bodhi’s shoulder. Garrick on the other hand had his back to us, focusing on the workout he was doing. Not even remotely interested in us.

“I might not be marked like you, but just like you I also had no choice in ending up here.”

”Well as someone who had no choice in ending up here, and has been training all their life for here, I have a proposition for you.” He says with a massive grin on his face.

”What kind of proposition?” I ask as I place my pack onto my shoulder, ready to head back to my room now I'd let out my frustrations.

”Help me train some of the other first years. Mainly Liz and Austin. There’s only so much I can teach them. But you’re the same height as them. You know how use that to your advantage. You can teach them how to get through challenges.” His voice almost pleading to me.

I hated to admit it, but he was right. Bodhi was too big and tall to accurately teach them how to fight. He could only teach them what he knew, how he moved. Which would work to an extent. But it would only get them so far. They’d both narrowly gotten through their assessment fights. Both being paired up against boys who weren’t entirely sure if they should go all out on a fight against a girl. And if we wanted our squad to do well, then we needed to help them. And as I meet Xaden’s eye over Bodhi’s shoulder I know he’s hoping I would say yes.

I turn my gaze back to Bodhi and nod. “I’ll do it.”

”Excellent!” He says a little bit too enthusiastically. “Be here tomorrow after dinner, I’ll bring them with me.”

And just like that he’s gone, jogging back over to Xaden and Garrick.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94